Possessed
by Evie Delacourt
Summary: Deryni power comes with great responsibility. What happens if a sociopath inherits Deryni talents instead, and receives just enough training to become a danger to society? The Arilan family is forced to deal with this menace to the Kingdom and Human/Deryni relations. I tried to keep the violence in this story muted to strong T rather than crossing into M-hopefully I succeeded.
1. Prologue

**Possessed**

** Prologue—1121 **

_ January 7_

_ The Gold Lion Tavern, City of Rhemuth_

Lord Walter Branigan, Baron of Caerdraig, leaned across the scarred wooden table before him so his trusted lieutenant could more easily hear him over the sounds of congenial laughter and merry banter coming from the next table over. "Well, what did you think of her, Aylmer?" he asked quietly.

Sir Aylmer's dark eyes gleamed with approval over his tankard as he took another quaff of the dark beer that was the Gold Lion's specialty. "You're right; she's a fine looking wench. Exquisite, in fact. A most suitable trophy for your collection, my Lord."

Lord Walter frowned slightly. "I'm not simply seeking _a_ suitable trophy, man! Is she, or is she not, the most lovely maiden Rhemuth has on offer?"

His lieutenant snorted. "I can't honestly claim to have seen _every_ maid in Rhemuth, my lord, but yes, she's far and above any other I've seen in a very long time. You would be envied far and wide for winning such a prize. You said she's Deryni, though. Won't that pose a problem?"

Walter's ice-blue eyes glistened with anticipation. "No, you're looking at it in entirely the wrong light. She shan't be a problem, she'll be a challenge. And I do enjoy a challenge…." He took a sip from his tankard, absently wiping the foam off his mustache afterwards. "She's young, though. It's too soon to tell for sure yet what she'll look like once her face and form fully ripen. I might have to hold off a year or two longer before I make my move."

Aylmer's brows rose. "A year or two? Dare you wait that long? She's nearly seventeen already; she could well have married by then."

The baron shrugged. "That hardly matters. She'll not marry before being properly betrothed, and if she's betrothed, the banns will be read thrice before they're wed, barring any unusual circumstances. It would be easy enough to eliminate a rival before the wedding. Or, if need be, after."

"She wouldn't be a virgin after."

Walter shrugged. "I'd prefer a virgin bride, of course, but as long as she's not breeding, gaining her once she's deflowered would merely be a regrettable nuisance. It's not as if I plan to leave her in that state." He paused to take another sip. "But I suppose you're right, a proper maiden would be a lot more enjoyable."

"And you'd be certain your heirs would be your own."

The baron laughed. "My dear man, do you honestly think I'd ruin that perfect form of hers by breeding her? You can't be serious. No, when it comes to heirs, one woman will serve as well as another."

"But I thought you meant to make her your wife! And your heirs would need to be legitimate…."

Walter of Caerdraig rolled his eyes. "Aye, she'll be my wife, but as for the other... Aylmer, think! Two women walk into a birthing chamber; a few hours or a few days later—even a few months, if one were to claim complications requiring a longer confinement—two walk out again eventually, one holding a baby. Who's to know which woman gave birth to it? One assumes, of course, that the one who went into the bedchamber heavy with child is the mother of the new arrival, but if the mother is hardly ever seen in the months prior to the birth, and if the midwife is a woman of large girth herself…." He smiled. "There are ways, Aylmer. You simply have to be willing to think your way through a problem, rather than giving up at the very outset because you presume there's no way around it." The baron chuckled. "I keep trying to tell you, man; perseverance is a virtue."

"It's a wonder _you're_ acquainted with it, then," Aylmer joked.

Walter laughed and took a deep quaff of his beer. "If the babes are assumed to be my wife's, that makes them legitimate enough for my purposes. All I care about, of course, is that my heirs be truly _mine_. And I hardly anticipate_ that_ will be any problem."

Aylmer smirked. "Never has been so far."

A tavern maid approached their table, bringing two bowls of hearty stew. She set them on the table before the men along with a couple of spoons. "I'll be back wi' th' bread. Would ye like a bit o' butter for it? It's fresh churned."

Walter swept the pretty maid with an appreciative look. "Aye, and top off our tankards on your next pass, would you?"

"Right gladly, m'lords." The tavern maid flashed both men a dimpled smile and walked away.

Aylmer studied the girl's swaying hips a long moment before turning back to his lord. "Winsome little thing, ain't she? I wonder what's on offer for dessert?"

The baron chuckled. "You're insatiable. Don't I keep you well enough provisioned? Keep your mind on the business at hand, boyo." He scooped up a spoonful of stew, blowing the steaming sample to cool it before tasting it. "This is quite edible."

"I told you the Gold Lion has one of the best tavern cooks in the City of Rhemuth."

"So you did."

The young woman returned, putting a tray of warm brown bread on the table between the men, along with a dish of fresh butter and a pitcher of beer. "There ye are, then. Anythin' else I can do for ye fine lords?"

Aylmer caught his lord's eye with a slow amused grin. Walter gave the tavern maid his most winning smile. "Not at the moment, but when are you free tonight?"

Her lips smiled back, though the welcome in her eyes dimmed. "Oh, I go off shift soon enow, but I'm never free in the way _ye_ mean, m'lord. I'm a married lass, an' an honest one to boot. Will ye be needin' aught else for yer table, m'lords?"

The ice-blue eyes scanned the tabletop. "No, I think this will do for us. Thank you for your service."

The maid thawed slightly, bobbing him a polite curtsey, and returned to the rear of the tavern. Walter took another bite of the stew, which had cooled enough to eat. He glanced at Aylmer. "So. What have you discovered about the brothers?"

Aylmer gave a startled glance over his shoulder in the direction the tavern maid had gone. "She has brothers?"

"Not _her_, man! As I said, get your mind back on business!"

"Oh. Aye." The lieutenant smiled sheepishly. "The Arilan chit. Well, both brothers are in training as squires under Prince Nigel, though the youngest just entered that service and the eldest is due to be knighted next year, by all accounts, if he doesn't manage to earn the accolade sooner. He's said to be quite talented; one of the best Nigel's had in years, though since he's not been battle-seasoned yet, he'll probably still have to reach his eighteenth year to be knighted." He frowned. "Though given that Wencit's likely to make his move soon, I imagine the lad will be battle-seasoned soon enough, assuming he lives through his first real combat." He took a few bites of his meal. "Are you certain the Arilans are Deryni?"

Walter pursed his lips thoughtfully. "Well, I've not yet tried to check for shielding—don't want to give the game away just yet—but according to my late father, their sire was, though that wasn't commonly known. So there's a good chance. And if not…well, that just makes my planning all the easier, though as I said before, I do prefer a bit of a challenge."

"There's also a sister. A year younger, I believe, and reputed to be equally comely."

His lord shook his head. "Yes, I've seen her. Quite lovely as well, but Javana's the superior in looks. I'll have her and none other."

Aylmer snorted with amusement. "Undying fidelity, then? I'll believe that when I see it!"

"None other to _wife_." The cold eyes glittered with chill humor. "I'll have naught but the best, Aylmer. As the future Baroness of Caerdraig, she'll be a reflection on _me_, so I'll have no lesser prize." His eyes sought the rear of the tavern, where the maidservant who had tended to them was hanging up her apron for the night. "Are you finished with your stew, Aylmer?"

"Mostly done. Why?"

Walter tilted his head towards the maid, now slipping discreetly out the back door. "Did you still want an after-dinner sweet?"

The lieutenant's grin broadened. "Oh, yes, I've room to spare for that."

The baron reached into his coin purse. "I may partake as well." He tossed a few coins upon the table. "Is she kin to the tavern owner, do you think?"

"I believe she's his daughter, my lord."

Walter smiled and added another coin to the small pile. "That should be adequate recompense, then."

The two men rose, following the young woman out into the dark night.

#

_ April 15, 1121_

_ Rhemuth Castle practice yard_

"Kill him, brother!"

The other onlookers laughed at Lady Javana Arilan's jest as her brother Laird Seisyll closed on his opponent, his dark blue-violet eyes seeking any opening in his brother squire's defenses. Stefan de Varnay grinned. "Not fair!" he called out to the lovely young lady in the crowd of spectators. Seisyll took advantage of de Varnay's momentary distraction, aiming for a blow to his opponent's less well defended right side, but Stefan caught the blur of motion out of the corner of his eye and parried with his shield, blocking the practice sword. The young mens' eyes met, violet clashing with green-gold. Seisyll smiled.

"Nice block," he said, "though you'd be better served ignoring my sister and keeping your mind on the game."

Stefan grinned. "Since she's your sister, you might well be oblivious, but trust me, for any other man she's a bit difficult to ignore."

"Works to my advantage, so I've no cause for complaint," Seisyll said, easily parrying a half-hearted feint by Stefan, whose gaze had wandered to the sidelines again. "You think the King would let me bring her to war with us? I could dangle her in front of Wencit and hope he's as easily distracted."

"I heard that, you git!" Javana protested with a laugh.

"If your brother's a git, does that mean you're on my side now?" Stefan grinned as he sidestepped a blow from Seisyll. "I could use a little support here."

"I'll let her drag your dying body off the field of battle; that will be support enough," Seisyll joked. The two fighters eyed each other warily, circling each other, swords held at the ready. Finally Seisyll broke the brief stand-off, feigning a strike towards one of Stefan's legs. Stefan swiftly brought his shield down to ward off the expected blow, but Seisyll changed the direction of the swing at the last moment, bringing the practice sword up and over to strike Stefan's shoulder.

"Damn!" Stefan took a step back. "I was using that arm."

"You have a spare, don't you?" Seisyll grinned.

"Well, yes, but that was my sword arm, you know. I suppose I could switch to my off hand, if I'm not bleeding all over the battlefield right now." He pretended to stagger over to the edge of the yard, stopping next to Javana. "I don't suppose an angel of mercy could offer me a cool drink and a towel?"

"Right, because _that's_ going to happen when you're fighting at Cardosa!" Prince Nigel favored Stefan with a raised eyebrow as the squire leaped back swiftly, startled by the Iron Duke's quiet approach. Nigel stopped at the yard's perimeter to sketch a courtly bow over the young lady's hand. "Lady Javana, it's always a pleasure to see you, but I'm going to need to ask you to leave for now; I need a fair bit more practicing and a lot less posturing from my squires over the next half hour." He grinned at the blushing maiden. "Though perhaps if I were to promise the squire with the greatest number of 'kills' and the fewest 'deaths' the opportunity to sit with a pretty young maid tonight rather than serve at feast, they might pay more attention to their fighting form."

She laughed, smiling a bit shyly at the unexpected Royal attention, and curtseyed. "I'm sorry, Your Highness. I saw the squires in training as I was on my way to the Castle from St. Hilary's, and just wanted to wish my brother well in his practice. I never meant to cause a distraction." Javana waved at Seisyll and continued on her way back to the Castle. She did not notice the silent watcher who detached from the small group of other onlookers to follow her a short time afterwards.


	2. Part One

**Part One—Back from the Mearan Front**

_ August 2, 1124_

_ Rhemuth Castle_

Lady Javana and her younger sister Lady Jashana stood on tiptoe in the crowd lining the upper bailey area of Rhemuth Castle, watching the returning knights and men-at-arms filing through the Gatehouse, their eyes straining to catch a glimpse of either of their brothers. Every once in a while one or both of their gazes landed on some fighter wearing Arilan colors, but a closer look at his shield or surcoat revealed he was not one of the men they sought, so they continued to scan the column of soldiers anxiously.

The Earl of Carthane, followed by his levies, filed through the gatehouse. Javana spotted a familiar face and device in that group; not one of her brothers, alas, but someone else who perchance might have some news of them. She lifted a violet veil high above her head, waving it wildly until the movement caught his eye. A flash of a grin, and Sir Stefan de Varnay paused long enough to sweep her into a quick embrace.

"Seisyll? Sextus?" she asked quickly before he could be swept away again.

"They're both fine," he assured her, "though Danoc's and Jenas's men are well back in the column, so you might have a bit of a wait before you see them come through. I'll seek you out once I'm free." The Earl's men moved on as new arrivals continued to file through the gatehouse. Stefan spared Javana one more brief glance over his shoulder before moving out of sight with the other Carthane knights.

Javana turned to her sister, eyes alight with excitement. "Did you hear, sister? They're both well!"

Jashana nodded, though she bit her lip as another group of fighters came through the gatehouse, hoping from their colors that they might be from Cassan. Her eyes scoured this levy anxiously, seeking a particular face but not finding it.

Javana, realizing who her sister sought, touched her arm gently. "Sir Ronan might have gone straight back to his own lands in Cassan instead of coming south to Rhemuth, you know. I doubt any of the Cassani men would want to travel this far only to have to turn around and go back north to their homes."

The last of that small group of fighters, headed by one of their officers, filed past the two sisters. Jashana sighed. "I know. But rumor has it that Cassan took heavy losses again in this war. I wish there were a way I could find out for sure if he's all right."

"I'm sure he'll be fine, and you'll be happily wed come Michaelmas." Javana gave her sister a gentle hug. "Are you excited about your wedding?"

Jashana gave a half-hearted laugh. "Well, as excited as I _can_ be, given that I barely know the man. But he seems likeable enough. And I _am_ hoping to get to know him a little better before Michaelmas. Otherwise, going off to live with a stranger's apt to feel a bit awkward, isn't it? 'Hello, nice to have met you thrice; are you ready for bed now, darling?'"

Javana giggled, though she felt a twinge of sympathy for her younger sister. "I'm sure Seisyll wouldn't have arranged your betrothal if Sir Ronan weren't a perfectly suitable match for you. He's old enough to make a dependable husband for you, yet not so old that he's become stodgy, and he's still fairly handsome. And at least you _do_ like him. Remember the husband Bess de Marais's family picked out for her?"

Jashana wrinkled her nose. "Mercy, yes! I know he's titled and quite wealthy, but I can't imagine Bess settling in happily with him, nor he with her. He dresses like a peacock, bathes in more rosewater than an entire Eastern harem, and Sextus says it's more likely he'll spend their wedding night swiving Bess's brother rather than Be—"

Javana clapped a hand over her younger sister's mouth, eyes wide with shock. She glanced around to make sure no one was listening to their conversation. "Jesú, Jashana, you've been spending far too much time around Sextus and his cesspit of a mouth!" she hissed. "Try to remember you're a lady, not a camp follower!"

Blue-violet eyes danced over Javana's hand. "Well, it's true!" Jashana managed, her voice muffled behind her sister's fingers.

Javana stifled a laugh. "It may well be, but it's hardly ladylike to say so, especially like _that_, and in the heart of Court, no less! Mother would be horrified! Seisyll's kept you cooped up at Tre-Arilan for far too long, sister. I'll have to appeal to him to let you remain in Rhemuth until you're safely wed; you've _got_ to learn something about proper deportment." The older sister's grin took the sting out of her words. "We can't have Sir Ronan trying to return you after a month of marriage, looking to trade you in for the better behaved Arilan sister."

Jashana grinned back. "You can have him if you'd like. I hear Cassan's cold in winter."

#

The Arilan brothers arrived at Rhemuth Castle later that evening, exhausted from several days of travel. Sextus proclaimed himself ready for a filling meal and a hot bathhouse, not necessarily in that order. Seisyll, grim and unsmiling, spared a few moments for a kiss from both of his sisters, but excused himself from the general merry-making in the Great Hall shortly after their arrival, asking leave of his sisters before escaping to his barracks and leaving them in Sextus's keeping.

After a few minutes, Javana also excused herself following a whispered conference with her sister. She left Jashana to tend to their younger brother, who had found his hot meal and was now going through a copious quantity of Ballymar whisky with more dispatch than attentiveness, advising Jashana that she might wish to locate a couple of strong squires to help her figure out how to pour their brother up the Keep's stairs and into his bed later that night, should he prove incapable of negotiating the steep staircase without assistance.

Javana encountered Sir Stefan on her way across the bailey to the Keep. He appeared refreshed, travel stubble shaved off and smelling clean and faintly of clove soap as he bent over her hand. His hazel eyes scanned her face. "You've found your brothers by now, I hope?"

"I have. In fact, I was just on my way up to visit Seisyll." She glanced up at the high Keep. "Jashana and Sextus are still at the Great Hall."

Stefan nodded. "I'll see if I can catch up with them, then. That is, unless you'd like an escort up to your brother's quarters?"

She shook her head. "Seisyll looked tired and not in the mood for company. He'll probably find _my_ visit an imposition, but I intend to impose anyway." Javana smiled wearily. "Though it's lovely to see you again, Sir Stefan."

Seisyll's former squire brother smiled back. "May I call upon you tomorrow, Lady Javana? It's been far too long since I've seen you, and I'd love to renew our acquaintance. That is, if Seisyll will permit..."

Javana curtseyed, blushing slightly. "I'm certain he will. Duchess Meraude has asked me to be available tomorrow morning—the ladies are collecting alms and putting together some care boxes for our injured soldiers and their families—but I should be free by midday, if you'd like to call on me in the afternoon."

Stefan bowed over her hand. "Until tomorrow afternoon then, my lady."

The older Arilan sister continued on, ignoring the wolf-whistles of two grinning men-at-arms wearing Carthmoor colors as she moved past them to enter the Keep where the Rhemuth soldiers were housed. She took the spiral staircase up to the level where her brother was housed, knocking on the heavy wooden door to his barracks. The door swung open to reveal a young squire. He smiled at the visitor. "Sir Seisyll, it's one of your sisters, I believe." The squire stepped back to allow Javana in.

"One of his _real_ sisters, or one of those city 'sisters' Sextus keeps slipping in past the guards?" a man half-asleep on his pallet joked, rolling onto his side. "Now _there's_ a man who likes to keep his 'sisters' close…." Seeing a noblewoman in the room, his eyes widened and a flush darkened his cheeks. "Jesú….I beg pardon, my lady! I thought Gib was jesting."

Javana nodded absently, walking across the small chamber to knock on a second door. It opened just as she got there, Seisyll peering out at her with a slight frown. "Javana, you really shouldn't be up here unescorted."

"I'm not unescorted. I'm with my brother," she countered.

Seisyll sighed, opening the door wider to allow her into the room where he was billeted. A squire tended to his armor in one corner, while a page gathered his dirty clothing into a bundle to bring down to the castle laundrywomen. In another corner, a chambermaid poured steaming hot water into a larger half-cask that was already partially filled, stopping after pouring half a bucketful of the hot water to check the bath's temperature. "That should do ye, Sir Seisyll. Warm, but not _too_ warm, just as ye like it." She glanced at the noblewoman, her cheeks growing a little pink. "Will ye want…um…shall I wait outside, m'lord?"

"Hm? Oh. No, that should do. Thank you, Maisie." The knight stepped further back from the door to allow the chambermaid room to exit with her buckets. He dropped onto the foot of his bed as his sister closed the door, giving a backwards look over her shoulder as she did so.

"Did I interrupt something?" Javana asked, raising a brow in speculation.

"No." Seisyll gave a half laugh, sighing tiredly. "Jesú, no. All I want is to soak out my aches and then sleep for a day or two. Which I'd go ahead and get a start on, except I gave up bathing with my sisters in the room when I went off for page training." He gave her a strained smile. "Javana, sweeting, it's not that I haven't missed you, but can this wait?"

"I'm sorry. It's just…you slipped off so quickly, and I was concerned about you. I'll come back once you're better rested."

"No, don't come here! I'll look for you tomorrow. Why don't we meet for dinner in the Great Hall tomorrow evening?" His expression grew shadowed. "I've news for Jashana about Sir Ronan, but I want you on hand when I tell her. Though perhaps it would be best if I keep that for a more private conversation. In the Chapel Royal, maybe, after dinner?"

Javana's heart sank. "We heard a rumor that the Duke of Cassan's forces were ambushed by Sicard's army. Was Sir Ronan…injured?"

Seisyll shook his head. "No, sweeting, he's dead. The King's had me helping with compiling the casualty rolls. He was missing and presumed dead after the ambush, and I just got official confirmation of his death earlier this week."

#

_ August 3_

_ Rhemuth Castle, Outer Wall_

Sir Stefan de Varnay and Lady Javana Arilan walked along the allure at the top of Rhemuth Castle's outer wall until they reached the tower midway between the castle's apartment block and the Abbot's Tower at St. Hilary's. There they rested, sitting in the shade of the portion of watchtower that jutted up slightly above this section of wall, using the relative coolness of the shadows and the breezes wafting over the river below to escape the August heat.

"Yes, I had a chance to speak with Seisyll briefly around three days out, and he mentioned that he was working on the casualty rolls, though he didn't mention Sir Ronan specifically," Stefan told her, concern darkening his eyes. "Was it a love match?"

Javana shook her head. "No, Jashana barely knew him. Still…." She sighed. "She _did_ know him, at least slightly, and she was hoping to enjoy married life."

The hazel eyes studied her face. "And what about you? Seisyll's not arranged a marriage for you yet?"

Javana shrugged, laughing softly. "No, Seisyll says I'm a right pain. He's brought up a few offers, but no one who really struck my fancy, and he hasn't felt strongly enough about any of them so far to push the subject."

Stefan's eyes teased her. "Picky, are you?"

"Well…." Javana grinned, blushing slightly. "Maybe a little. I could've been betrothed this time last year to a Connaiti knight…if I didn't mind one who reeked of garlic, had eight children already from a previous marriage, and was old enough to be my grandfather."

Stefan burst into laughter. "Tell me Seisyll didn't seriously consider that offer for you!"

"No, of course not." Her blue-violet eyes danced. "But he couldn't resist telling me all about it. For weeks." She gave her brother's friend an appraising glance. "And what about you? No thoughts of settling down yet?"

Stefan shook his head as he gazed off into the distance, shrugging slightly. "No. Not really in a position to marry yet, truth be told." He gave Javana a sidelong look. "I don't know if Seisyll happened to mention it, but I had to leave Rhemuth right after we were knighted two years ago because my mother was dying and I was needed at home."

"Yes, he did mention something of the sort. I'm so sorry." She reached out to touch his arm, her eyes filled with compassion. "My mother's similarly afflicted now; she started showing signs of a wasting disease last summer, and our physician tells us it's just a matter of time."

Stefan, after a moment, covered her hand with his own, giving her a slight smile before allowing his gaze to wander off into the distance again. "We had several bad years in a row around that time—crop blight, mostly, but there were the medical expenses as well. My father ended up having to remarry last year, in hopes of getting out of arrears sooner."

"Ah. He found an heiress, then?"

Stefan snorted. "He did, but considering who he found, better him than me! _I_ couldn't have stomached her." He sighed. "We're slowly recovering, but it will be a few more years yet before Kestrel Mote can make enough of a profit for me to even consider marrying. I could, I suppose, find a position in someone else's service in the meantime, but Father really could use my help more at home, and aside from that, it seems the great lords prefer to give the better paying positions to men who are truly knights errant and need those jobs more, rather than someone who stands to inherit land, no matter how impoverished he might be at the time. Or at least it certainly _seems_ that way, though I'll grant I've not looked all that far afield yet."

"Well…." Javana smiled brightly at him, hoping to lighten his mood. "At least that gives you a bit more time to practice charming the ladies before you have to settle down to just one." She grinned. "I imagine you must have cut quite a swath through Meara, laying siege to all those lovely Mearan maidens. They probably never knew what hit them."

Stefan looked startled by the thought. An odd look, amusement mingled with something else Javana couldn't identify, crossed his features. He gave her a sheepish grin. "You _really_ haven't had much news come back from the front lines, have you, sweeting?"

"No, not much. Bits now and again..."

Stefan's hand tightened briefly around Javana's. "Let's just say, then, that I don't think the Mearan women would've been very open to the knights of Gwynedd attempting to charm them. Especially not the ones _my_ division chanced to encounter. More often than not, the Mearan army had arrived at those villages ahead of us, and...let's just say Ithel's men had already subjected their own countrywomen to a fair bit of rough wooing. Not even the convents were safe havens."

"Oh." Javana looked stunned, then indignant. "We heard rumors that Ithel's men desecrated Saint Brigid's Abbey, and that he despoiled a princess in hopes she'd agree to wed with him after so he could get more heirs for Catrin of Meara's cause. Prince Conall brought some of the sisters here to Rhemuth a short while back. I had no idea the atrocities were more widespread than that, though."

Stefan shook his head. "No, the first half of that rumor is true, but the irony is that Ithel apparently had no notion he'd forced himself on a princess until right before he was executed for his crimes. He might have _wished_ he'd offered for her, had he known earlier, but given what he did at Saint Brigid's, I'm sure the princess in question would liefer have impaled him with his own sword than accept such an offer. God knows _I _was glad enough to see the man hang for it!"

"So Prince Conall _didn't _exaggerate," Javana mused. "Not about the Mearan army wreaking havoc on their own folk, anyway."

Stefan shot a quick glance up at the top of the watch tower to ensure the guard stationed there was out of earshot. "No, not about that. Though I'll warrant he might have played up his own part in the relief work after. Twit." He grinned at her. "And I never said that! I'll deny everything."

Javana grinned back. "I'd never repeat it, and especially not to _him_. Jesú, the lad makes my skin crawl! It's a shame, really. I adore Duchess Meraude. I just don't like being sized up by Conall Haldane as if he thinks I'd look especially tasty spread on toast."

Stefan laughed. "I truly doubt it's _toast_ he's thinking of, though I'll not deny he's probably thinking you're a tempting little morsel. You can do far better than Prince Conall, though."

"I can do better than a Haldane Prince? My, you're more ambitious for me than Seisyll is!"

Stefan shook his head, smiling. "I'm not referring to his rank. You deserve a better man than that."

Javana gave her brother's friend a sidelong look, then glanced away. "Oh, a simple knight shall do well enough for me, just so long as he has a good heart and good humor, and I enjoy his company." She chuckled. "And hopefully I'll end up with one who's not too uncomely, not reeking of garlic, or old enough to be my grandsire."

"That last might not be so bad," Stefan teased. "He could leave you widowed early, and if he's wealthy enough, you'd have your pick of young, handsome, non-reeky suitors after." He grinned as he dodged her playful slap at his arm.

"If he's _wealthy _enough? You think I'd need wealth to provide enough inducement to offer for me?" Javana tried to look offended but failed utterly, her amusement sparkling in her eyes.

Stefan grinned. "Oh, you underestimate your charms if you believe _that_." A faint shadow crossed his features. "Though a bit of wealth never hurts."

"Oh, Stefan…." Javana bit her lip in consternation, studying him. "I'm sure Kestrel Mote will recover in good time." She leaned her head against his arm. After a moment, he slipped it around her, holding her in a gentle embrace. He raised his other hand to give her cheek a tentative stroke.

"Javana…I'm really not in a good position to court someone right now…."

"I know," she whispered, pulling her head away slightly to look up at him, her lips twitching slightly. "It might help if you turned this way just a little, though."

He gave a surprised laugh. "No, I _meant_…."

She laid a finger gently across his lips. "I know."

He kissed her fingertip lightly, watched as her eyelids drifted shut. "Seisyll probably wouldn't allow me to court you anyway." A slightly abashed smile. "He knows me a little _too_ well, your brother does."

Javana sighed. "Maybe. Hard to know, with Seisyll." She laid her head against his shoulder again. "I just hope when my brother chooses someone for me, he'll be someone I can like at least half as well as you."

Stefan laid his cheek against her dark hair, touched and a little unnerved by her admission. He had long admired Seisyll's lovely sister, but hadn't dreamed she might hold him in such high regard. Hadn't dared to dream such things of late, considering her far out of his reach, at least for the moment. And, admittedly, his attentions were prone to wander from one fair lass to the next, though in the end, his roving eyes had always brought him back around to Javana. He'd always assumed that was just because she seemed as unattainable to him as the sun above, and therefore more of a challenge to his desires than many a pretty girl offered, but now that he actually held her close, he had to admit he was even more captivated by her, not less so.

Her hair smelled of violets and amber. He lifted her face to his. The black-lashed eyes opened, dark amethyst eyes meeting his gaze, and he found himself kissing her.

#

The watcher sat under a tree in the castle parklands, gazing up at the young couple as they kissed. His lips tightened. His master would not be happy to learn about this tryst. It would be needful, he suspected, for them to make their move soon.


	3. Part Two

**Part Two—Star-Crossed**

_ August 10, 1124_

_ Rhemuth Castle_

"Are we all set? I told Mother we'd be home by late afternoon." Seisyll gestured to his squire to take his last bundle of goods downstairs to where Sextus waited with the horses. "Where's Javana?"

Jashana, clad in the black of mourning for Sir Ronan, was seated on the bed that she and her sister had shared during their stay at Rhemuth Castle. She rose, walking over to the window to peer out at the parklands one more time. "I'm…not certain, brother. I believe she wanted to take a final walk around the gardens before we left for Tre-Arilan." That much, at least, was true. What Jashana chose not to reveal was that her sister had left earlier that morning with Sir Stefan, and while the gardens had been mentioned as a possible destination, that certainly didn't mean it would be their only stop. Jashana bit her lip, hoping Javana knew what she was doing in encouraging Stefan's affections. She couldn't blame her older sister for her interest in their brother's friend—Sir Stefan was certainly quite attractive!—but Jashana had heard gossip from a few of the Court ladies about the young man's eye for a fair damsel. As far as she'd been able to determine, his behavior was circumspect enough when it came to the highborn ladies at Court, though it was whispered he had an immoderate fondness for the occasional willing chambermaid or rustic lass.

Then again, so did her brothers, and Sextus at least made little effort to hide it. If Seisyll was more discreet than their younger brother about his liaisons with the fair sex, Jashana suspected it was simply because finding himself the family _paterfamilias_ at such a young age had forced him to adopt a more responsible approach to dealing with his male needs. It certainly wasn't because Uncle Denis was breathing down his neck; if anything, Seisyll had more freedom since their uncle had been transferred by the Church from Rhemuth to his new responsibilities in Dhassa two years previously. But their uncle's move had also signaled a transition of leadership in the Arilan family. Though the timing had been pure happenstance, his departure from Rhemuth had coincided with the full coming of age of the youngest of his late brother's children. They hardly needed his guardianship anymore, unofficial though it might have been given his vows to the Church which took precedence over even family ties. Not with Seisyll of an age to take on that role now.

Seisyll heaved an impatient sigh. "She promised she'd be back before noon." A glance out the window revealed the sun still high in the sky, but beginning to make its early afternoon descent towards the horizon. "Close the shutters, Jashana; I think I'd best see what's keeping our sister." Reaching into his belt pouch, he pulled out a small sphere of amber-colored crystal the size of a robin's egg. Jashana moved quietly towards the door, ensuring it was bolted to keep out anyone who might happen to drop by. She had no desire to have to explain to anyone why her brother was sitting on her floor gazing intently into a ball of shiral. No, explanations of that sort were bound to be awkward, given the popular sentiments towards Deryni. Some of the ancient fears had begun to ease in these early years of King Kelson's reign, but not so much that the Arilans were ready to reveal their magical heritage just yet.

Seisyll stared into the sphere of shiral, mentally blocking out the world around him, narrowing his total focus and concentration on the world hidden within the crystal's amber depths. He called the older of his sisters to mind then, focusing his will on seeing her within that golden orb….

#

Javana Arilan giggled as she wiped crumbs of pastry off Stefan's lips. He grinned down at her.

"Quite tasty, but a little sticky, I think. How was yours?"

"The same," she assured him, "though mine was flavored with rose syrup, not orange."

"Oh? I quite like the flavor of roses." Stefan bent to kiss her. "Especially second-hand," he teased once he came up for air again.

Javana's cheeks turned rosier than the syrup on her flaky pastry. "I'm developing quite a taste for orange syrup myself."

"Are you?" Stefan stroked her unbound hair, his fingers slipping through the silken tresses. He drew her close again, heedless of the slight scrape of pottery against wood floor as Javana pushed the platter of sweetmeats out of his way in her eagerness to have nothing come between them.

#

Seisyll's eyes narrowed slightly as he took in their surroundings. The wall behind them was of stonework; that was of little help, since most of the walls in Rhemuth Castle were of the same stone, but these walls were bare, not whitewashed or covered with tapestries, which narrowed down their possible location somewhat. The wooden floor was slightly worn by years of use, and a blanket had been laid over one corner of it, on which the couple sat beside a basket, some dishes and bowls of food, and a flagon of drink. Various strongboxes and crates scattered and piled around the small chamber proclaimed it to be a storeroom of some sort. There was a small window in the wall above their heads. Seisyll focused his attention on the window, noting the view outside, the angle of the view in relation to the rest of Rhemuth Castle, and swore softly.

"Where is she?" Jashana asked, worried.

"Looks like she's in one of the storage rooms in the southern gatehouse, if that's the roof of St. Hilary's I'm seeing in the background. If he's tampered with Javana, I'll kill him!"

"Oh, Seisyll, no!" Jashana looked alarmed. "She's in love with him, I think."

Seisyll looked up at his younger sister with a glare. "I take it, since you didn't bother to ask who Javana is with, that you know something about this?"

Jashana looked away, shamefaced. "Well...I do know she said something this morning about taking a walk with Sir Stefan once more before we leave Rhemuth. But I know nothing more than that, honestly!"

"How long have they been seeing each other?"

"Seisyll, we've been lodging in the same castle just over a week! It would be a bit difficult for them _not_ to see each other..."

"You know what I mean!" Seisyll fumed. "Jashana, I've known Stefan for years. I know his ways, and if Javana is in love with him, that's all the more cause for concern. It's not marriage he has in mind, that's for damn certain; even if it were, he's not in any position to wed now and won't be able to for some years, unless he finds an heiress with a much larger dowry than I can settle on either of you." The young knight's lips tightened. "If he intends an honorable courtship, sister, why hasn't he approached me for permission to call upon Javana?"

"I—" Jashana swallowed, tears in her eyes. "I'm sorry, Seisyll. I didn't realize. I knew he was your friend, and so I trusted she'd be fine with him."

A shadow crossed Seisyll's features. "I believed he was my friend also." He stood, crossed the room to strap on his sword belt. "Well, I'd best find her before he can do any more damage. Hopefully it's not gone any further than a few stolen kisses, and let's pray no one has noticed they've wandered off together unchaperoned. The harm to her reputation could be irreparable if she's discovered alone with him. An upper floor storeroom...Jesú, I know what _he's_ thinking, but where in the hell has _her_ common sense crawled off to?!"

#

There was a token guard at the southern gatehouse, though most of the men normally posted there were still at their midday meal. Seisyll gave the guardsmen a nod of greeting, feigning a cordiality he was far from feeling at that particular moment. One of the guards, recognizing him, exchanged a few pleasantries before returning to his post, allowing Seisyll the chance to slip up one of the guardhouse staircases to the upper level chambers.

The upper floors seemed mostly deserted at this time of the day. Seisyll peeked into a few unlocked chambers, extending his senses slightly to probe past other rooms that were securely locked, hoping to encounter his sister's familiar presence. He was beginning to think he might have been mistaken in his guess of her location when he heard a soft sound from further down one corridor at the top floor. He stopped in his tracks, listening intently.

There it was again…a faint murmur of voices, and a soft moan. Quietly, he headed for the sounds, reaching out with his senses to ensure it was Javana and Stefan he was drawing closer to, and not some other couple stealing away for a tryst in a hidden corner. His questing probe encountered not just one shielded mind, but two. Seisyll paused, startled.

A quiet cry, quickly muffled. Seisyll's brisk stride took him directly to their chamber door, but it was locked. He bit back a curse as he turned his attention towards the tumblers in the lock.

"Stefan?!" His sister's voice, tight with passion and…was it wonder?

Her shields slipped briefly, and a wave of astonished pleasure rocked Seisyll back on his heels. He slammed his own shields tightly shut in involuntary response, tears pricking his eyes as his mind moved the last tumbler into place and the door handle turned beneath his hand.

#

Stefan looked up just in time to see the heavy wooden door fly open, Javana's enraged brother stumbling through the doorway. He acted instinctively, leaping up to block Seisyll's view of his sister, trying to buy her enough time to rearrange her clothing, knowing even as he did so that his efforts were futile.

"You rutting bastard!" Seisyll, red-faced with fury, leaped across the room at him. Stefan straightened, did little to defend himself, though he kept a wary eye on the other knight's sword, still sheathed in its scabbard.

"Seisyll, no!" Javana jumped up, hastily fumbling with her gown's lacings. She attempted to interpose herself between Stefan and her brother, but Stefan gently pushed her aside. "It's not what you're thinking! He hasn't done that…he didn't harm me…." Her voice was frantic, desperate to make her brother listen.

Seisyll's fist shot out, collided with Stefan's jaw, knocking him back against the wall. Hands grabbed at Stefan's tunic, pulling him forward only to slam him back against the wall again.

Javana screamed, sobbing at her brother to stop, tugging at him from behind, but Stefan was only dimly conscious of them now as his vision started to spin, then fade.

#

"Let's go!" Seisyll grabbed his sister's arm, desperate to get her out of sight and away from the Castle before any of the guards downstairs came up to investigate the commotion and discovered her there. It would hardly be a secret what had caused the fight between the two men, were they to see her there in her disheveled state, and Javana's reputation would be destroyed.

"No! We can't leave him here; you've hurt him…." Javana dashed tears from her eyes as she tore away from his grip to crouch by Stefan's side.

Seisyll grabbed her by the waist, pulling her away from the unconscious knight. "He's bloody well lucky I haven't killed him! I should, but then I'd have to answer to Kelson for _why_, and I'd rather not have to mention my reasons." He glared at his sobbing sister. "Don't make me have to knock _you _out also. I'll carry you home tied over my saddlebags if I have to."

#

"He'll offer for me, Seisyll; I know he will," Javana repeated dully as they rode home to Tre-Arilan. "He just can't right now."

"Then he should have waited until he could court you openly and honorably," Seisyll said, his voice tight with anger. "Don't forget, though, I've known Stefan a lot longer than you have, and I assure you it's only dalliance he has in mind, not marriage. You're not a stupid chit, Javana; I can't believe you fell for his lines! Have I been negligent? Do you need a husband so badly you'd risk your good name just to steal away for an hour or two with a man who's charmed his way into so many women's skirts that he can hardly keep count anymore? Need I find you a husband, and soon, to preserve what's left of your honor?"

"It wasn't like that!" The tears flowed down Javana's face. "Yes, I know he's hardly a monk. Neither are you! And he told me up front he can't afford to wed yet. But he _Ioves_ me, Seisyll! And no matter what you might think of him, he didn't…." She took a shuddery breath, swallowed down a sob. "I was going to let him, but he wouldn't…he said he would wait until he could do better by me…."

"Well, thank God for _that_ small mercy," Seisyll growled, "though he certainly didn't stop to think that 'doing better by you' might need to include having more care for your honor! Imagine if someone else had happened upon you two! And what the hell do you mean, you were going to _let_ him?! Damn it all, Javana…." He spurred his horse ahead of hers, red-faced with fury.

Sextus, who had been lagging a little behind with Jashana to allow the quarreling siblings more privacy, now drew ahead until he was even with Javana. For once, his expression was completely serious. "Seisyll's right, you know. Stefan's not ready to settle down yet, no matter what he might say. He might even have believed what he told you at the moment, but trust me…." He shook his head. "Once he's had time to think it through a bit more, using the head on his shoulders and not the one in his braies, I think he'll see things differently. I'm sorry, sister, but you deserve better."

Javana tossed her head, tears shimmering in her eyes. "Sextus, it might come as a total shock to you, but not every male who's reached the age of full manhood is a randy, stews-skimming libertine and complete waste of air like _you_!" She urged her mount ahead, not looking behind her to see the hurt look in her younger brother's eyes.

Jashana drew alongside him. "Well, that could've gone a bit worse. She might have gutted you with her belt dagger." She gave Sextus a sympathetic smile. "Give her a few weeks. I think she'll see it for herself eventually, given enough time for the hurt and embarrassment to pass. And who knows, we could be wrong about Sir Stefan. If we are, I'm sure he'll call on Tre-Arilan in due time, seeking to make amends, even if he can't afford to wed her yet. They could at least get betrothed, if he truly cares about her. And if not…." She sighed. "Well, I hope he does. Javana will be heartbroken if he doesn't, and as for Seisyll…." She shook her head. "I'd not want to be in Sir Stefan's shoes. It's a wonder Seisyll didn't kill him outright!"

#

_August 12_

_The Gold Lion Tavern, Rhemuth_

Sir Stefan took another swig of his ale, not really tasting it as it went down, for his mind was on other matters. He took a book of wax tablets out of his pouch, reading his hastily scribbled missive yet again. _To my right worshipful Lady Javana, I pray you pardon my boldness in writing to you without leave. For the wrong I have done to you, I am deeply sorry, yet for the love I bear you, I pray you will forgive me. My passions were intemperate, yet if your brother will permit, I would make amends right gladly. As I have said to you before, I am in no position yet to make an honorable offer for your hand, but it is with that end in mind that I shall endeavor to make right what I may, that you might be better minded to accept me at a more suitable time when I am free to offer for a wife. _

He took another swallow of ale. Jesú, that would never serve! He sounded like a damn secretary, not like himself. Javana would think he'd hired a clerk to tender his apologies! Flipping to a clean leaf in the book of wax tablets, he tried again. _To my Lady Javana from Sir Stefan of Kestrel Mote. I love you. Please forgive me for losing my head and placing you in such a compromising position. I wish I knew what I could do to make up for that…._

_ "_Can you give me my innocence back?" He could almost hear her saying it, those beautiful Arilan eyes flashing violet fire. Stefan buried his face in one hand, gave up on the letter, and took another deep quaff of his ale. A sudden thought hit him, and he straightened, reaching for the wax tablets and stylus once more.

_ Unto Sir Seisyll Arilan from Sir Stefan de Varnay, greetings. You know my present circumstances. What you may not realize is that your sister Javana owns my heart. If you would be willing to hold off giving her to anyone else until such time as I can offer her marriage, I would gladly make amends for my behavior with her. It was too much love that made me careless of her honor, not too little. _

That might serve as a beginning. Stefan stood, tossing a coin onto the table to pay for his ale. He would need to finish the letter, of course, and then copy it over with paper and ink, but one of the mail couriers could have it on its way to Tre-Arilan by the next morning if he were quick about it. Or should he deliver it in person? No, considering the fury he'd seen in Seisyll's face before the darkness of unconsciousness swallowed him, he'd be throwing his life away to show up at Tre-Arilan uninvited. Seisyll doubtless had issued orders to his entire household to skewer him on sight should he venture anywhere near their lands. No, Stefan would make the first overture by letter, then see what sort of response he received before venturing anywhere near the Lady Javana again.

Stefan considered the letter again. He would need to add a line stating his intent to return to Kestrel Mote at the end of the week, of course, so that Seisyll's reply might reach him there. Or perhaps Javana's. He hoped she wasn't too angry with him, that she'd write him back, though he winced anew at the position he'd put her in. Why _wouldn't_ she be angry with him? He was furious with himself for his stupidity. She was a highborn maiden, after all, not some trollop one picks up at the city stews!

Still caught up in his thoughts, he never noticed the man who left the tavern behind him, shadowing his steps just a short distance behind him all the way back to Rhemuth Castle.

#

Stefan finally finished a letter he was satisfied with. He copied it to paper, shaking a caster over the damp ink to blot up the excess so it would dry quickly, then folded it carefully, sealing it with hot wax and his ring inscribed with his personal arms. That task completed, he scrawled the delivery instructions on the outside for the mail couriers and brought it downstairs to the small chamber near the Great Hall where mail was readied for delivery, entrusting it to a man wearing Haldane livery.

As Stefan left the room, another man entered, bowing politely and stepping aside so that Stefan could pass through the doorway. The second man shut the door behind him, pulling a sheaf of letters out of a pouch. "Three letters to the Kheldish Riding, my good man," he told the man in crimson and gold livery.

"In this box, then, Sir Aylmer," the Haldane retainer replied, opening the lid to a large coffer. Sir Aylmer moved towards the box, but appeared to trip as he approached it, dropping his letters to the floor.

"Oh, let me help you..." The liveried man stooped to pick up a letter that had landed near his feet. Swiftly, Aylmer reached across the table between them to pick up Stefan's letter and stuff it up his sleeve before retrieving the other two he had dropped. The mail sorter straightened, handing Aylmer's lost letter back to him.

"Thank you." Sir Aylmer stuffed his missives into the box bound for the Kheldish Riding, keeping Stefan's letter hidden for closer examination in the privacy of his own quarters later.

"So, when do you return to Lord Walter's service?" the mail sorter asked.

"End of week, I think. My business is nearly done here."

"That's good, then. I'm sure he'll be glad to have you back."

Aylmer smiled. "It will be nice to head back home again." He sketched a polite bow. "A very good evening to you, m'lord."

#

_ September 1_

_ Tre-Arilan_

Lady Javana's heart leaped as the courier delivered a letter to her brother Seisyll. She looked up from her needlework expectantly as he cracked open the seal, hoping the letter would be from Stefan. His eyes perused the message's contents, then he stood. "I'm needed back in Rhemuth. I may not be back for a few days."

Javana's heart fell. "It's from the King, then?"

Seisyll glanced at his sister, belatedly realizing what she'd been hoping for. "Yes, it's from Kelson. Javana..." He sighed. "Stefan's not going to write, you know."

Her eyes dropped back down to her needlework, filling with tears. "I suppose not."

Seisyll's heart nearly broke for his sister, despite his anger at Stefan. "I wish..." His hand absently crumpled the letter he still held. "You deserve better, Javana, but if the man would only show the decency to offer for you properly, I would still allow you to wed him once he's able. But...I very much doubt he _will_ offer. I'm sorry."

Javana simply nodded, unable to speak. Seisyll sighed, leaving the room to make ready for his journey. Perhaps while he was at Court, he could make a few discreet inquiries. It was high time Javana was wed. There was no use allowing her to pine away over a one-sided love that was never meant to be. A good husband, one better suited for her, would soon take her mind off Stefan de Varney.

#

_ September 15_

_ Kestrel Mote_

Sir Stefan stared northwestwards over the harvested field of his father's manor, in the general direction of Rhemuth and, somewhere west of that, Tre-Arilan. There had been no reply to his letter. He'd written once more since sending the one from Rhemuth, but then he'd crumpled it up. No, she'd made her choice plainly enough, or perhaps Seisyll had. In any case, he could hardly hope to have the maiden without her brother's consent.

He glanced back at his home, at the garish purple curtains his new stepmother had purchased in his absence, the brilliant color almost blinding even at this distance and viewed through leaded glass windows. Those thrice-bedamned draperies worth nearly a king's ransom, which could easily have been Javana's brideprice had the fortune that had paid for them belonged to him and not to Alienora. His younger sister Sophie had privately started to refer to their father's new wife as their stepmonster. Disrespectful, perhaps, but Stefan was hardly minded to correct her.

It was hopeless to think of bringing Javana home to _this_, an impoverished bride living under the roof of the impossible woman his father had wed in his desperation to keep Kestrel Mote solvent. No, doubtless Seisyll was already making other plans for his beloved sister. A better match that would ensure her lifelong security, a man who could make her far happier than he ever could. Stefan could hardly begrudge her that.

It hurt like hell to think of her, though, or of what might have been had he been freer to follow his heart.

The sun began to sink beneath the horizon. Stefan braced himself against the chill September evening breeze and slowly made his way back towards the manor house.


	4. Part Three

**Part Three—The Offer**

_March 3, 1125_

_Rhemuth Castle_

Javana Arilan watched as her brother Sextus celebrated his new knighthood in one dance after another with various young ladies of the Court. Their sister Jashana sidled up to her, a barely suppressed smirk on her face. "Lay odds on how long that white belt of his is going to stay white?"

The older sister snorted. "I'm amazed Kelson didn't simply hand him a coal black one and have done with the pretense." Despite the disparaging words, though, her mouth twitched in a reluctant smile. "Our baby brother does look quite dashing in his knight's finery, though, doesn't he?"

"Very. And trust him to turn that to his full advantage. Fortunately this is Rhemuth, not some country fair, so he has to be at least somewhat well behaved. He can't even claim the recklessness of youth for his mischief while he's here at Court, since he's of an age with the King." The thought made Jashana giggle. "Jesú, can you imagine if King Kelson were anything like Sextus?" She rolled her eyes, turning slightly to smile and wave at a friend she'd spotted across the Great Hall.

Javana stifled a laugh. "God forbid! He'd be the first Haldane with a harem kept in the solar, not to mention the tavern he'd install in the Royal withdrawing room!"

"I think my mother might have some sharp words to say about the solar being used to house a harem, though I can see some merit to the idea of a tavern just off the Great Hall."

Javana whirled to find Prince Conall grinning down at her, also garbed in the finery of a newly-dubbed knight. He extended a hand to her. "Might I have the next dance with you, Lady Javana?"

Javana turned slightly away to meet her sister's eyes, barely managing to mask her dismay. "I...ah...Of course, Your Highness."

_And speaking of Haldanes more like Sextus,_ Jashana teased her sister via Mind-Speech. _Do be wary, sister. Hopefully he's truly only wanting a dance._

_ Let's hope. And at least our brother has the courtesy not to leer at the women he chats up. I know this gown's modestly cut, but the way Prince Conall just looked at me, I feel like I'm walking around in my shift! _Javana allowed herself to be escorted into the central part of the Great Hall where the revelers were taking up their positions in preparation for the next dance.

#

Lord Walter permitted himself a slight smile as he watched the dancers. _She's the most magnificent wench in Rhemuth, and even a Prince desires her favor. But she'll be mine, young Haldane, not yours!_

Still, he knew he could not wait too much longer to make himself known to her. The lass had ripened full gloriously, and her brother was sure to be receiving offers for her hand already. He had already sent Sir Seisyll a letter of introduction as an overture, stating his interest in Javana and his qualifications for a marriage with her, only to be told that Seisyll would not consider an offer for either of his sisters, no matter how well-suited the prospective husband might seem to be, unless the ladies had at least met the man and had no objection to being courted by him. Walter had been angry at first, but Sir Aylmer had reminded him that Seisyll's attitude was hardly exceptional; many a father and brother held similar sentimentality towards their womenfolk. So he had allowed his temper to cool, but now that he'd seen Javana again, he was tired of waiting for the chit. No, it was time now to make his move. If she'd not have him sight unseen, he'd allow himself to be seen.

Ladies liked handsome charming men, Walter knew, and it was a point of pride for him that he excelled at being both. Those traits had stood him in good stead on countless occasions. Most people found it easy to trust a likeable, attractive man.

The dance ended. Lord Walter straightened his tunic, checked his reflection in the window glass to make sure his appearance was in top form, and walked over to the object of his desires. "Lady Javana, if I might be so bold, may I have the next dance?"

#

_ March 4, 1125 (Ash Wednesday)_

_ Rhemuth Castle_

"Lord Walter Branigan has offered for you. And quite honestly, Javana, I'm not sure we could hope for a better match."

The older Arilan sister arched a brow at her brother. "_We_, Seisyll? Is he asking for your hand too?"

Their mother gave an exasperated sigh from her travel-bed. "You know what Seisyll means! Lord Walter's a baron, and well enough off that you'd want for nothing."

Seisyll nodded. "And to top it all off, he's not all that old—not quite thirty yet, I don't think—and as far as I'm able to judge such things, I don't think any maid would consider him uncomely. There's many a lady in Rhemuth or abroad who would gladly welcome such an offer."

"Oh, I know." Javana sighed, staring moodily out a window. "I barely know him, though."

_You barely knew Stefan either,_ Seisyll thought, though he refrained from saying so, not wanting to stir up _those_ memories at a moment when his sister's future well-being hung in the balance. "Lord Walter has a good reputation at Court," he said instead, "and is considered a rising star by many."

Javana nodded absently. "He seemed likeable enough, based on our brief encounter last night, though how in the world could he possibly think he knows enough about me to offer for me, based on one dance?" She glanced over at her brother. "I need more time than that to decide! Can't I at least get to know him better first?"

Seisyll glanced down at Walter's message, then back at her. "Of course. That's only fair. In fact, Lord Walter himself suggests that, as we're presently observing Lent and a marriage would not be permitted before Easter anyway, he would like to use that time to form a better acquaintance with our family." Seisyll smiled. "You've no objection to that, I trust?"

His sister shook her head, slightly stunned. This baron who had offered for her certainly seemed to be the decisive sort, to have sent Seisyll such a message after only one brief encounter at a Court revel, though she could hardly find fault in any suggestion that would allow her more time to assess a future husband before she had to make a choice to wed with him or not. "He's…not in haste to wed right after Easter, though, is he?"

Seisyll's brow rose. "If he is, he hasn't said so in his message. If, after you've had a chance to get to know him better, you decide you like him, would marrying that soon be a problem?"

Javana bit her lip, wondering what excuse she could use to stall the marriage. It's not that she had anything in particular against this suitor, but he wasn't Stefan, and her heart hadn't healed enough for her to feel ready to entertain another man's offer yet. A thought suddenly came to her, and she turned back to her brother. "It's just that I was hoping to be able to finish my Deryni training. You know I had to put off my final studies and return home from Andelon before the Mearan War started because you needed to save up to equip Sextus properly, and then Maman started growing more ill…." It was no mere excuse, it happened to be the truth as well. No need to mention that, had it been Stefan offering for her rather than some stranger, Javana would gladly have given up her final year of training rather than delay the bliss of becoming Stefan's wife.

"Sister…Lord Walter might not be willing to wait a full year…."

"But we can at least ask him, can't we?"

Seisyll sighed. "Yes, I suppose we could. But what excuse would we give him? 'My sister is Deryni and would like a chance to finish her training in use of powers that, in some parts of the Kingdom, could still get her burned at a stake before a Haldane could catch wind of what's up and intervene'? I think that's unlikely to serve, Javana."

Lady Alix tugged at her sheets as she regarded her eldest daughter. "I'd love to see you settled before I die, dearest; it would ease my mind greatly to know you'll be cared for once I'm gone." She glanced fondly at her eldest son. "Not that I doubt Seisyll would take good care of you as long as he's able, but he'll be needing to wed too someday and get heirs for Tre-Arilan, and it would be easier for him to do so once you and Jashana are settled into your own households. Though you're right as well, you _do_ need to finish your training, if at all possible." She sighed. "If only I had more time..."

#

_ March 20_

_ Tre-Arilan Great Hall_

Javana listened attentively as her dinner partner spoke of the beauty of his ancestral lands in the northeastern corner of Gwynedd. "It's mountain country, the Kheldish Riding is, not too dissimilar to the lands here in western Gwynedd, near the border to the Connait, though my baronial seat is even closer to the sea. From Caerdraig, one can see for miles. On a clear day, if you look eastward, you can see the Gulf of Northarch in the distance. My fields are fertile enough, but Caerdraig's true wealth is in its lumber and its mines."

"It sounds quite lovely, my lord," she murmured, taking a dainty nibble of her squab. It was tasty enough, but she was too nervous to have much of an appetite. She stole a look up at the man who shared her trencher. Seisyll had been right; Lord Walter was not at all unpleasant to look at. The man seated beside her had reached the prime of young manhood—Javana guessed his age to be in his late twenties or very early thirties—yet a sprinkling of silver strands at the temples of his otherwise raven hair lent him an air of maturity beyond the years reflected in his features. Pale blue eyes, almost like aquamarines, smiled down at her as he noticed her perusal, and she dropped her gaze, flushing slightly as she took another taste of her squab.

"I would very much love to show it to you," Lord Walter told her. "It is quite a beautiful and productive barony indeed, though alas, there is one thing Caerdraig lacks which renders it short of perfection."

Javana glanced back up at him curiously. "And what is that, my lord?"

Pearly white teeth framed by a black mustache and goatee grinned back at her. "Why, a baroness to provide the crowning jewel for such an elegant setting! Though I'm hoping you can remedy that lack in due time."

Javana smiled, casting her eyes demurely downwards, her blush growing as she toyed with the ring he'd given her as a courtship token. Her new suitor was certainly charming, but she found the intensity of his admiration more than a little disconcerting. She wondered why—she had certainly had other ardent admirers in the past few years since reaching the age of womanhood—but after a moment's thought she realized most of those had either been men closer to her own age, still in some ways more boys than men and hard for her to take seriously as potential suitors, or else men old enough to be father or grandfather to a maid her age, their admiring comments born more of fond affection rather than from ardent desire.

Though Stefan had also been very charming... Javana took a sip of wine, stifling her sudden confusion. She had been so sure she was in love with him—no, she still was certain of it at times!—but now she felt her affections beginning to waver. Oh, not that she was ready to accept Lord Walter's suit—she barely knew the man yet! But surely, if Stefan really cared for her, he'd have offered for her already, would he not have? Should she feel guilty for merely thinking her present suitor both courtly and handsome, and not rejecting his suit outright, when the man she'd have gladly given herself to had not bothered to contact her since they'd parted ways in Rhemuth the previous August? Maybe Seisyll had been right about Stefan. If so, she would be a fool to turn down a perfectly good offer from a man whose sole disqualification as a husband was that she had not grown to know him yet and was therefore shy at the thought of a courtship.

Lord Walter extended his goblet for Seisyll's squire to refill, then gestured for a few more choice morsels to be added to Javana's side of the plate. "Your brother provides a sumptuous feast, my dear lady," he told her. "It would be a shame to let such bounty go to waste." He picked up a small pastry and held it to her lips. "A sweet for the sweet?"

She took a delicate nibble of the offered delight, then glanced up at his eyes. They locked on hers, an oddly proprietary expression in their depths. Javana dropped her gaze again, the nervous flutter in her stomach returning. No, she wasn't ready to consider accepting the baron's offer yet, no matter how courteous he was. Not so soon after the raptures of Stefan's attentions. She needed more time for her heart to become more fully hers again before she could offer it to another.

"I mustn't fill up _too_ much, my lord, or I shan't be able to accompany you on that tour of Tre-Arilan I promised earlier."

"Ah, so you did." Walter put the sweetmeat back on the trencher, dabbing at her lips with a napkin. Javana allowed his ministrations, averting her gaze demurely as her mind worked to figure out how she could buy herself more time to consider his suit with a clearer head and less bruised heart, without discouraging his courtship entirely.

#

_ March 30_

_ Rhemuth Castle_

Damn that young pup of a King to eternal perdition!

Lord Walter did not actually believe in eternal perdition, of course, though he supposed it was a good thing such a condition did not actually exist, given that he would doubtless be consigned to it himself for his misdeeds, or so these idiots around him would believe if any of them truly knew him and his deeply buried secrets. He glanced around at the crowd surrounding him in Rhemuth Cathedral, dressed in mourning black even as he was, and crossed himself in pretended piety at the appropriate moment in the service. They were gathered today to pray for the missing King Kelson and those others in his stupid, pointless quest who had perished or gone missing in some freak accident, or so the rumors said anyway. Walter was impatient to be gone, but niceties were niceties, and one could hardly hope to rise in Court society without observing every little jot and tittle.

Nigel should be King now, Walter mused, and Nigel was hardly a malleable young boy, but alas, the man had had the bad sense to slip into some sort of apoplexy shortly after receiving the news about his Royal nephew, and now the odds were that he'd not survive long enough to be crowned. That was unfortunate. At least a Kingdom under Nigel's reign would likely have remained strong. No telling what that fool of a firstborn of his would do, once the Kingdom was in _his_ grasp, though Walter supposed there was an upside to the Kingdom being left in the hands of the younger Haldane pup. Even an idiot King could be a useful tool in the right hands. Walter had no reason to fear Conall, so long as he attracted only what Royal attention it was to his advantage to attract, and drew no unwanted notice to those aspects of his life he preferred to keep private.

This whole mourning business meant, however, an unexpected delay to his wedding plans. The Lady Javana, upon hearing the news, had retired to her chambers, declaring herself too distraught with sorrow for the young King and the other fledgling knights traveling with him to be able to consider such matters as betrothals and weddings for the time being, and asking leave to grieve privately at least until Eastertide had passed. So Walter had returned to Rhemuth—as indeed, Laird Seisyll had also—both men being expected back at Court to renew their fealty oaths before their new overlord. Both had returned with the expectation that this new overlord would be Prince Nigel. Walter suppressed a yawn as the interminable church service droned on and on, a part of his mind amusing itself with the possibility that Prince Conall might now inexplicably fall into a dead faint as well, leaving the Crown to Prince Rory, who might then succumb to some equally mysterious ailment, leaving the throne to Prince Payne. The Haldane Princes, tumbling one after the other like dominoes lined up in a row.

An amusing image, though hardly practical. No, Walter hoped Conall could be crowned with no further mishap. Conall would need the help and guidance of strong men to govern Gwynedd, for though he was Haldane, he was no Nigel. Even Kelson, young and relatively inexperienced as he'd been, had been a force to be reckoned with, and like his father before him, not a King to be underestimated. No, Conall was ill-prepared to rule Gwynedd, and would need to rely heavily on his councilors to learn the art of kingship. Walter intended to become one of those men in good time.

Yes, under the circumstances, he could allow Javana a little more time. That would give him a chance to turn more of his attention to how he might work his way into Conall's inner circle. Once he had won the young man's trust, there would be time enough for the pleasures of a wife. King Kelson's death need not have been in vain after all.

Come to think of it, Kelson's death might well have done him a favor. Walter smiled. It was a pity for the Haldane lad's sake that there was no such thing as eternal bliss either, though as he contemplated the future, Walter could hardly begrudge him that, poor boy. Yes, now that he'd taken a short while to think things through, he'd been wrong to be angry with Kelson for disrupting his courtship, when there was an even higher prize at stake.

One bright star falls; another one rises.

The Mass was over. Walter followed the other congregants out into the brilliant light of day.

#

_ April 20 (Easter Monday)_

_ Tre-Arilan_

"He's _alive!_" Seisyll grinned at his sister from the Tre-Arilan chapel doorway.

Javana, kneeling at the prie-dieu in prayer for their mother's rapidly declining health, turned to stare at her brother. "Yes, brother, that's what Easter traditionally means..."

"No, I mean the King!"

"The Ki-" Javana's eyes widened, her smile growing along with it as the news sank in. "Kelson's been found alive, after all this time?"

Seisyll laughed, entering the room to help his sister to her feet so he could swing her around gleefully. "Not just Kelson either; Duke Dhugal's returned to Rhemuth with him, after both had been presumed dead these several weeks! You should've seen their re-entry..." He broke off, sharing with her mind to mind the sights he had witnessed in the past day.

"I can't imagine Prince Conall was too happy to see his cousin," Javana ventured once the flood of images subsided.

The joy in Seisyll's eyes faded, replaced by a grim look. "Indeed not. Especially as it turns out Prince Nigel's illness was no mere accident." Again, he shared the details with his sister in unspoken sharing of thoughts rather than in words.

Javana looked shaken when he had done sharing. "Oh, Jesú! Poor Kelson, to come home to all that, and have an execution to face afterwards. He can't allow Conall any leniency, after so many betrayals, even if Conall had any remorse. I know the King has the resolve to do what's needed, but he's got a heart as well. It won't be easy on him, giving his cousin a traitor's death, and having to look Prince Nigel and Duchess Meraude in the eye after."

Jashana entered the room. "Mother told me Seisyll's just retur—oh, there you are!"

Her brother turned to face her, a grin playing on his features. "Kelsonus resurrexit!"

"Vere resurrexit!" Jashana answered automatically, then her brain processed what Seisyll had just said. "Wait...what?!" Again, Seisyll shared the events of the past twenty-four hours with his younger sister.

The elder sister, on the other hand, turned to stare unseeingly out of one of the colored glass windows. Yes, she was happy that both the King and Cassan's young duke had returned from their ill-fated quest safely, but now that all was well in Rhemuth and both a spiritual and a temporal Eastertide had come, she knew she had a decision to make. Lord Walter had been otherwise occupied since Kelson's disappearance, but he was bound to return soon, ready to press his courtship anew. She needed more time.

#

_ May 3_

_ Rhemuth Castle_

Walter watched from a distance as the traitor Prince was brought out for his execution. He studied the scene before him in professional detachment, wincing as the executioner had to take a second stroke after the first blow to Conall's neck failed to do the job. Sloppy, he thought, though granted, the sniveling little boot-scraping was hardly making the headsman's job easy. Walter wondered dispassionately what would happen to the Prince's head. Would it be hoisted above Rhemuth Keep, or perhaps further from the Castle, over one of the City gates instead? Oh, probably over the City. Kelson was the sort of princeling given over to niceties; he'd not want his aunt the traitor's dam to wake up with _that _cheerful sight rotting outside her window! Walter chuckled at the thought. No, on second thought, Kelson would probably just bury the gory thing and have done.

Just as well that Walter hadn't had enough time to hitch himself to the young Prince's rising star, given how quickly it had plummeted earthward again.

Ah well. There'd be other chances to rise in Court circles. He was still a young man himself, and had the luxury of time on his side, not to mention patience. Time, then, to apply that patience to a different challenge and a different goal. He'd allowed himself to be distracted from her long enough.

It had been far too long since he'd let himself enjoy the pleasures of a woman, though. Before he set off for Tre-Arilan, surely he could spare an extra evening for a little fun.

Lord Walter turned from the headless Prince, now being carried away, and set forth for the City in search of a pretty plaything.


	5. Part Four

** Part Four—Commitments and Closure**

_ May 4, 1125_

_ Tre-Arilan_

"The physicians have done all they can; it's just a matter of time now." Lady Javana's expression was grave as she spoke quietly with her suitor. "She has a few good days still, but they're fewer and farther between. I just want to make Maman's remaining days as comfortable as I can."

Lord Walter put on his most solicitous expression, masking his annoyance. "Of course you do, my sweet. One could hardly expect otherwise. And...ah...have the physicians ventured a guess as to how much time Lady Alix has remaining to her?"

"That's hard to say, my Lord. Three months? Six? They're certain she won't last to the winter, and doubtful she'll even make it to early autumn." Javana averted her eyes, blinking away some sudden moisture, though she'd shed most of her tears already in the past months since first learning of her mother's deteriorating condition.

Walter patted her hand, looking duly sympathetic. "I realize a wedding between us is probably out of the question right now, under these circumstances, but would it not help to put her heart at ease if we could at least assure her that you'll be well provided for after her passing?" He lifted Javana's fingertips to his lips, pressing a light kiss to the backs of her fingers. "If she cannot live to see her firstborn daughter married, at least we can ensure she sees you securely betrothed."

Javana stared down at Walter's bowed head, worrying her bottom lip slightly with her teeth. She could find no argument against his reasoning—in fact, her mother had said something similar when Seisyll had first presented her with Lord Walter's offer—but for some reason she still couldn't bring herself to take that final step of commitment. "Maybe," she allowed noncommittally. "I trust you'll understand, though, that I'm having a bit of trouble thinking so far ahead at the moment. I'm afraid these days, most of my living has been one moment at a time." Javana smiled sadly. "Is your mother still living, Lord Walter?"

He shook his head. "No, sadly she died in my earlier youth, as I was just entering full manhood."

"Then I'm sure you'll understand how precious these last days are for me, my lord."

Walter suppressed a snort. What he understood was that the chit had found another reason to delay being wed and bedded. She would pay for that, once she was fully his. But he could hardly force his suit upon a maiden with a dying dam; all Rhemuth would want to mollycoddle the damned intractable wench in sympathy for her plight, were she to protest a hasty marriage and a forced separation from her mother's deathbed. No, he must be patient, especially now that victory was so close at hand. All he truly needed was to secure her agreement to a betrothal between them; after that, a marriage was all but inevitable once the old biddy died. He couldn't wait around Tre-Arilan indefinitely waiting for the damned crone to take her final breath—his lands needed his attention, and he'd been away from the Kheldish Riding too long already—but he had noticed that Javana still wore the ring he'd given to her as a courtship present. As long as she had it on her person, he would be able to see through her eyes and hear through her ears at any time he chose. He'd certainly know when the Arilan dam entered her final decline, and then he'd make his reappearance. Javana would surely be ready to formalize their relationship by then. What maid didn't crave security, but most especially an orphaned maiden?

"Of course I understand, sweeting! And you shall have all the time you need." He pressed Javana's hand to his heart. "A devoted daughter's place is at her mother's side, after all, just as my place is at your side, my lovely dove." Walter smiled as he played his trump card. "A Deryni bride is worth any delay, after all; I've waited for _so_ long to find a woman I can share the full bounty of life with, both in its pleasures as well as its sorrows."

#

Seisyll's eyes widened. "He _knows?_"

Javana nodded. "Yes. _I _certainly didn't tell him, but apparently his father once knew ours, and knowing our sire to be Deryni, Walter sought me out in Rhemuth in hopes of finding that I carried the trait as well." She frowned slightly. "I don't recall him testing me for shields when we met, but then again, my mind was quite occupied with other matters. And I definitely detected _his_ once I checked for them after his revelation today. His shielding is iron-tight and beautifully ordered too, not the sort of half-formed rudimentary shielding one sometimes encounters among simple humans."

The Arilan _paterfamilias_ narrowed his eyes in thought. "Father was never open about our heritage. If the late Baron of Caerdraig knew the Arilan secret, he must have been someone Father trusted with his life—with all our lives." He sighed. "I need to tell Mother when she awakens again; she might be able to shed a bit of light on this. Though surely if she were aware Lord Walter is Deryni, she'd have said something earlier..."

"Might his father have learned of our Deryni blood accidentally?" Javana asked, puzzling over Walter's revelation.

Seisyll tightened his lips. "I suppose it's possible, but I can't imagine Father being that careless." He shook his head. "One of my few clear memories of him is of him impressing the utmost need for caution and secrecy on me, when I once happened upon him as he was finishing up a ritual. I was barely old enough to comprehend that what I'd seen was anything out of the ordinary, but he set precautions and blocks upon me anyway to ensure I couldn't speak about any of it to anyone but himself, Mother, or Uncle Denis until after I'd reached my full training and my training controls were removed. No, either Father trusted the late Baron fully, or else Baron Caerdraig somehow found out about him without him ever finding out. I wish I knew which."

"I suppose, if Lord Walter is Deryni also, that would explain his...rather ardent pursuit of me." Javana smiled wryly. "I figured it was too much to expect he was simply instantly smitten by my myriad charms on the basis of a single dance."

"Indeed." Seisyll returned her wry smile. "Not that you have any lack of charms, lest you misconstrue, but one dance _is_ rather a brief precursor to such an extended siege." He looked at his sister thoughtfully. "You know, though, if he _is _Deryni, that makes him even more ideal as a suitor for you. Are you any more disposed towards marriage to him, knowing that?"

Javana looked away, blinking back sudden tears. "You know, Stefan is Deryni also."

Seisyll sat in silence a long moment, then took his sister's hand. "I suspected he might be. I thought I sensed two sets of shields when I was searching for you, that last afternoon you were in Rhemuth together." He gave her a pained look. "I know you had your heart set on him, sweeting, but Lord Walter is offering you marriage. Stefan..." His voice trailed off.

"I know," she agreed softly. "I once thought he felt the same way I did, but evidently he was just playing me for a fool. And like a naive idiot, I fell for it, believing his actions to be born of love rather than mere desire." She turned Seisyll's hand palm up and lay it against her cheek. "Can you forgive me, brother, for worrying you so, and for my harsh words after?"

Seisyll enfolded his sister in a gentle embrace. "Javana, it's only ever been my heart's desire to see you happy and well cared for in life, even if we've disagreed about how to ensure that. You know that, don't you?"

She lay her head on his shoulder. "I do."

#

_ July 25_

_ Tre-Arilan_

Javana stifled a sob as the physician bent over her mother, who lay gasping for breath in her bed. The man coaxed a few sips of medication into his patient once she was able to draw breath again, and after a few minutes her breathing returned to a more natural rhythm.

"The attacks are getting worse now, aren't they? And far more frequent than they were, I think." Javana gazed anxiously at the man who was tending to her mother.

He nodded, moving away from Lady Alix as the Arilan matriarch slipped back into sleep. "You need to prepare for the worst, Lady Javana. I don't think your mother has much longer now. Is Sir Seisyll back from Rhemuth yet?"

"Yes, he returned an hour ago, I think. Since Mother's condition worsened, the King has given him leave to spend more time at home, but a matter of some urgency came up..." She realized she was babbling. "Did you wish to speak to him?"

"Yes, my Lady." He gave her a reassuring smile. "I believe your mother will remain asleep for a while, but if you wish to remain with her, I'll see myself out. Where might I find Laird Seisyll this time of evening?"

Javana took a quick glance at the position of the sun through a nearby window. "Most likely he's in the Great Hall, but if not, our steward can see you to him."

"I'll go look, then." The physician bowed and exited the room.

#

Lord Walter gazed at his scrying crystal, watching the ailing woman through the eyes of the grieving girl who was the object of his matrimonial desires, and smiled in satisfaction. Standing, he walked to the door and threw it open. "Send for Sir Aylmer," he told a startled manservant. "Tell him to attend me at once; I have urgent business that will take me away from home for a short while, and I'll need him to help me make ready."

#

_ August 1_

_ Tre-Arilan_

Lady Alix lay back on her stack of pillows, her breathing labored. Javana wiped her mother's brow with a damp cloth, while Jashana opened a window in hopes of catching a summer breeze to cool the bedchamber. Sextus and Seisyll stood just outside the open chamber door, listening to their family physician, their expressions grave. As the physician finished speaking, Seisyll gave him a curt nod. The two men walked out of sight of the patient's chamber, while Sextus turned to re-enter the room. He walked over to his mother's side, bending to plant a tender kiss on her brow.

"Something to drink..." Alix whispered.

"I'll get it," Sextus told his sisters, glad to have a task to do. He straightened, turning to leave the room. Jashana followed him to the door.

"What did the physician say?" she whispered once she was sure she was out of her mother's hearing.

"He gives her a week at the most," Sextus whispered back, his eyes filled with grief. "More likely no more than a couple of days. She may seem to have a surge of renewed energy right now, and that's why she's interacting with us more, but he told me that often happens shortly before the end."

#

Seisyll returned shortly afterwards, pulling up a stool to sit by his mother's side. Alix reached over to pat his hand. "My darling...so young yet to be left with so much responsibility, but you've done so well already, and I have no doubt you'll always serve our family and our lands well. Jamyl would be so proud of you, son."

The Laird of Tre-Arilan brought his mother's frail hand to his lips, kissing it softly. "I'll do my best never to fail him, Mother. Or you." He brushed a wisp of sweat-soaked hair away from her face.

"There is one thing I would ask of you and Javana," Lady Alix said, glancing over at her eldest daughter. "I want Javana to finish her training..."

Javana nodded, an unexpected surge of joy mingled with relief lightening her grief for a brief instant, but her mother hadn't finished speaking yet. She leaned closer to hear her mother's quietly spoken words.

"...but before she returns to Andelon, I'd see her securely betrothed." Their mother's eyes peered anxiously up at her daughter. "If Javana is willing to have Lord Walter, that is. Are you, darling?"

It was her choice, and yet in a way, it had already been decided, for Javana would no more dream of denying her mother's deathbed wish than she would consider entering holy orders. She smiled down at her mother, nodding her assent, feeling a strange sense of relief at the finality of the decision. Perhaps it was better so. Certainly she had no strong reason to deny Lord Walter's suit, aside from a lingering desire for Stefan, but she knew there was no future in that dream now.

"Yes, Maman, if you think him a good match for me, I'll have him gladly. Though I thank you for allowing me the extra time to finish my studies first."

"Walter may not be very pleased by the delay, but I'll see Javana finishes her training before she weds him," Seisyll vowed, squeezing his mother's hand lightly.

Lady Alix's eyes traveled to her younger daughter, who had just returned with Sextus. "I do wish Jashana were settled." She allowed Sextus to raise her up so she could take a few sips from the goblet he held to her lips.

"I've someone in mind for her," Seisyll said, smiling as Jashana gave him a startled look. "I ran into an old friend on my most recent visit to Rhemuth, and he's recently come into his lands and is of a mind to marry in the next year. He had to return home right after his Court business, but he has asked leave to visit Tre-Arilan when he's back in the area, in hopes of meeting Jashana and seeing if they might suit each other well enough to consider a courtship."

"And just when were you intending to tell me this?" Jashana demanded, torn between amusement and indignation.

Seisyll gave her an apologetic shrug. "I'd meant to bring it up last night, but...well...other matters grew more urgent." He glanced down at their mother again.

"I'm sorry to be such a bother, my love," Alix whispered.

"No, Mother, never that," he assured her.

"Might I at least know his name?" Jashana asked, brimming over with curiosity, though she tore her eyes off her brother long enough to brush a hasty kiss of reassurance on her mother's cheek.

"Sir Ethan of Mainwaring. His lands are in the Duchy of Haldane, about as far from Rhemuth to the east as we are to the city's west. And I suppose you're probably wondering what he looks like." He chuckled at his younger sister as he reached into his belt pouch and pulled out a small wrapped item, handing it to her. "I hope I've chosen well for you."

Jashana unwrapped the object, opening it to discover a painted miniature portrait of a young man, perhaps in his mid to late twenties, with laughing eyes the color of sherry and dark brown hair with a slight bit of curl. She looked up, surprised.

"He's younger than Sir Ronan."

"He is, a bit. Not that Ronan was all that old."

"He...appears most pleasant..." Jashana blushed slightly.

"I'm told the Court ladies think him quite attractive," Seisyll assured her. "I'm not the best judge of such things, but I can assure you that the portrait doesn't do him justice."

Jashana turned the picture so that her mother and older sister could see it. Lady Alix smiled. "Oh, I remember him, though he was still a squire in King Brion's Court the last time I saw him. A charming young man, as I recall." A spasm rocked her body, and she closed her eyes, struggling to breathe again. Javana motioned her siblings away from the bed, raising Alix's wasted form higher on the pillows until she was breathing normally again.

"We'd best let you rest, Maman," she said once Alix was breathing more normally again.

Her mother opened her eyes, favored her children with a faint ironic smile. "I'll soon have all the rest I could desire, darling." Her eyes flickered to Seisyll. "Have you sent for Denis yet?"

Her firstborn nodded. "I contacted him this morning. He is making arrangements to have others take over his duties in Dhassa over the next few days. He says he hopes to be here by this evening, if not sooner."

"Good." A slight twitch of humor at the corners of her lips. "As much as I long to see my beloved Jamyl again, he'll only send me back again if I neglect a proper leave-taking from his brother."

#

_ August 2_

_ Tre-Arilan_

Bishop Denis opened the door to his sister-in-law's bedchamber. The Tre-Arilan chaplain Father Anselmus exited, carrying a tray that bore the items that had been used to administer the Sacrament of Extreme Unction to Lady Alix a few minutes before. The other family members re-entered the bedchamber at that point, none wishing to be away from her now that she seemed to be on the verge of making her final farewell. Lady Alix lay half-propped on some pillows, her breathing grown more labored now, though she occasionally summoned up enough energy to open her eyes and peer, perhaps unseeingly, across the room while her fingertips plucked at the sheets.

It was at one of those moments when her mother seemed at least slightly lucid that Javana whispered in her ear, "Mother, Lord Walter is here! He arrived just this morning."

At that news, Alix seemed to respond, turning her head slightly towards her daughter's voice. Javana continued, her voice thick with tears. "He is willing to exchange betrothal vows with me now, while you're still here to witness them. Shall we, Maman?"

Nothing but the sound of breathing for a long moment, punctuated on occasion with a slight rattle, then Alix's gaze cleared briefly. "Andelon," she whispered.

"Yes, Mother, she'll finish her training first," Seisyll assured Lady Alix, his voice gruff with suppressed tears. "I've not forgot my promise to you."

Lord Walter, standing at the foot of the bed, looked startled. "Andelon?"

"I'll explain later," Seisyll whispered. He glanced at Denis, who stepped forward, a missal in hand. "Javana?" The eldest Arilan daughter left her place by the head of the bed to join Lord Walter at the foot of it, glancing nervously up at him before taking a deep breath and turning to face her uncle.

Denis Arilan gave his niece a sympathetic smile. "Are you absolutely certain, poppet?" The question needed no further elaboration, yet Javana, glancing at her dying mother, could not bring herself to back out of the expected betrothal at this point, despite her nervousness. She summoned up a smile.

"Yes, Uncle Denis."

He nodded, raising the missal and turning towards Walter. "Walter Edward Branigan, do you wish to take Javana Richeldis Arilan as your future wife, assuming no impediments exist to this union, and if Holy Church permits?"

Walter gazed down at his bride to be, a faint smile on his lips and a gleam in his eye. "I do."

Denis turned to Javana. "And do you, Javana Richeldis Arilan, wish to take Walter Edward Branigan as your future husband, assuming no impediments exist to this union, and if Holy Church permits?"

Javana favored her suitor with a shy smile. "I do."

"Then let us receive, in the name of the Church, your mutual promises which will be fulfilled at the moment you receive the Sacrament of Marriage." Denis smiled at the young couple. "Join right hands, please, and exchange your vows."

Javana offered her hand to Walter, who took it, noting with satisfaction that his courtship gift was still on her finger. He repeated the words that Denis spoke next: "I, Walter Edward Branigan, affirm with my mouth, pledge by the faith of my heart, and swear by my baptism that I will take thee, Javana Richeldis Arilan, in six months time."

Seisyll stepped forward at that point, a look of mild consternation on his face, and touched his uncle's arm to pause the ceremony. "Nine months, I'm afraid."

Denis sent his nephew an inquiring glance. Seisyll Mind-Sent his uncle a quick impression of their mother's request from the day before. Walter watched both men in growing confusion.

Javana leaned towards him to whisper an explanation. "Maman wished to see me betrothed before she died, but she also made Seisyll promise that I'd be allowed to finish my Deryni training before we're wed."

Her bridegroom looked briefly mutinous, but after a quick glance around the room at his relatives-to-be, he took a deep breath and forced a smile down at his future bride. "I could finish training you, my love."

"Perhaps so," Javana whispered back, "but Maman has her heart set on me finishing in Andelon, where I began my formal training. I would have finished by now, but her illness cut my studies short."

Walter stifled a sigh. He could hardly protest a deathbed promise without looking churlish, but at least the betrothal would seal the maiden as his. It could have been far worse. Lady Alix might have wished upon her deathbed for her eldest daughter to take a completely different sort of holy vow. Fortunately _that_ idea had not crossed her mind; Walter had never abducted and despoiled a nun, but there were first times for everything, he supposed.

"All right," he allowed, "In nine months time, once Javana has finished her training."

Javana looked up at him, gratitude mingling with relief in her eyes, and his expression softened. "You see, my dear, I can be reasonable."

Seisyll, glad that the issue was settled without further argument, stepped back to his original place. Denis looked at his niece expectantly, and she too repeated the vows that Walter had just spoken.

Denis took the two ends of his stole and laid them in the form of a cross over the couple's joined hands. "I bear witness of your solemn proposal and I declare you betrothed, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, Amen." He glanced at Walter. "Is there a betrothal ring?"

Walter bowed towards his future wife's uncle. "I'm afraid I arrived unprepared for an immediate betrothal, at least insofar as a ring is concerned, though of course I'm eager for the match itself," he said truthfully enough, unsure as to whether the late Sir Jamyl's brother was also Deryni and therefore capable of Truth-Reading, or if the trait had managed to skip him. It seemed unlikely to him that a Deryni would enter the priesthood, much less rise to the station of Bishop in the Church of Gwynedd, but stranger things had been known to happen. "But your niece is wearing a ring I gave to her when I first visited Tre-Arilan and made my desire to court her known; perhaps that would suffice?"

Denis nodded. Javana removed the ring from her finger, laying it on the missal her uncle held. He traced the sign of the Cross over it, blessing it, then uttered a brief prayer. "Creator and Preserver of mankind, Giver of spiritual grace, Bestower of eternal salvation, send Thou, O Lord, Thy Spirit upon this ring, that she who wears it may be armed with the strength of a heavenly defense, and may it profit her unto eternal salvation. Through Christ our Lord, Amen." Denis extended the missal towards Walter. "Place the ring on her left ring finger," he instructed.

Walter picked up the newly blessed ring, forcing down any external sign of dismay as he realized, upon touching it, that whatever the bishop had done had somehow managed to counteract the spell he'd set into it. He glanced covertly at the bishop. The man _must_ be Deryni after all, he mused; surely a mere babbling of pious mumbo-jumbo would have no effect on a working that powerful! He forced himself to go through the rest of the ritual—the slipping of the newly-blessed ring over index, middle, and finally the ring finger in the names of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, but his carefully shielded mind was awhirl with speculation as he slid the ring home and gave Javana's upturned face a gentle kiss.

#

Midnight. Walter had lain sleepless in his guest chamber at Tre-Arilan, rigid with fury at the delay in his wedding plans, not to mention the unexpected reversal of his ring charm. He'd have to figure out another way to keep his eye on Javana during her continued absence from her rightful place in his keeping. Damned interfering crone, to impose that wish on her daughter at such an emotion-fraught time, knowing her family would never refuse her! Knowing that _he_ dared not refuse the request, and fly in the face of convention, for fear of gaining a bad name and the censure of popular opinion!

He'd not loathed a woman so intensely since his own mother found out about his illicit nocturnal activities and threatened to denounce him. He'd had to strangle the witch to silence her; her shields had been too strong for him to exert any control over her in his usual ways.

Walter couldn't strangle this one, of course. That could hardly escape notice. There was one way he could vent his spite, though, and no-one would be the wiser.

He got out of bed, walking the short distance down the corridor to the dying woman's chamber. A lone candle flickered in its stand, and by her bedside Jashana sat, for the family had decided to take turns sitting vigil over their loved one until she slipped from this world to the next. Jashana had drifted into a deep, exhausted slumber, however, and did not stir as Walter quietly approached her mother's bed.

Alix, as if sensing Walter's sudden presence at her side, opened her eyes. He took her frail hand in his, smiling down at her with ice-cold eyes, extending his mental touch to probe at her shields. As he suspected, they were fragile, succumbing readily even as her body was succumbing to the disease that was eating her alive.

_Lady Alix, I thank you for the gift of your daughter. This is the future I have planned for her_, he Mind-Spoke as he caressed her hand. He sent a series of images flooding directly into her mind—a lurid set of fantasies he had cherished for years, ever since he had first lain eyes on the Arilan chit. Alix gave a horrified gasp, the death rattle sounding loudly in her throat, stiffening and attempting to cry out for help, but Walter swiftly imposed iron-firm control over her, cutting off both verbal and psychic cries before she could form either. Alix subsided onto her pillow, only her pale face and the mute appeal in her panicked eyes conveying her distress.

_ Rest in peace, Lady Alix_, Walter added as he locked the knowledge away in her mind so she could never utter a word of what she now understood, should she live to see the morning's light. He eased himself from the room, returning to his bed and soon falling into a deeply satisfied slumber.

Jashana awakened a few hours later. It was dawn. In the early morning light streaming through the window, she could see that her mother's soul had departed sometime during the night, leaving behind only a withered body, its final expression reflecting profound anguish.


	6. Part Five

** Part Five—Backwards Glances**

_ April 30, 1126_

_ The Port of Desse_

"Javana!" Seisyll waved joyfully at the young woman disembarking from the ship that had conveyed her from Andelon across the Southern Sea and up the Eirian River to this bustling port city closest to Rhemuth. His sister turned at the sound of her name, spotting him in the crowd after a brief moment and waving back, a brilliant smile brightening her features at the sight of him. Seisyll made his way through the crowd, his steps picking up speed as his sister met him halfway, throwing herself into his outstretched arms with a happy cry.

After a few moments, he gently disengaged from their embrace, holding his sister at arms' length to take a better look at her. "Andelon has quite agreed with you, I see. You've blossomed." He looped her arm in his, glancing around for Sextus. Eventually he spotted Sextus gathering up Javana's baggage, accounting for each piece and making arrangements for their conveyance to Tre-Arilan. He nodded in satisfaction and turned back to his sister.

"Lord Walter will be most delighted to collect his new bride at the end of the month, I'm sure. But I'm glad we'll have a little time with you first." He brushed back a tendril of hair that had come loose from her braided hair and was now blowing across her face in the river breeze. "And Sophie is quite excited to meet you, and eager to help you with your wedding preparations..." He waved his hand in an airy gesture, accompanying it with a wry smile. "Fripperies and the like, whatever it is you women discuss when you've got your heads together."

Javana laughed softly, a light blush coloring her cheeks. "Oh, that's right, I _am_ getting married this month, aren't I? I've been focusing so hard on my studies, I very nearly forgot. I suppose that's awful of me, isn't it?" She glanced up at her brother. "Have you heard from Lord Walter lately? He wrote me several letters earlier on, but my last from him was a couple of months ago."

"Only once, a few weeks ago, when he wrote to confirm that he would be returning to Rhemuth in early May and traveling to Tre-Arilan for the wedding once his business there is concluded."

Javana studied her brother, noticing the carefree light in his eyes and the easing of the lines of strain she'd noted in his expression when she'd seen him last, when she waved goodbye to him from the stern of the ship taking her to faraway Andelon a mere fortnight after their mother's death. "Marriage seems to be agreeing with you," she teased gently, "though I think it's perfectly horrid of you to marry while I was still away. Could you not have waited another month? Is my new sister such a paragon of loveliness that delaying a wedding just a few weeks longer would have been such a torment? We could have had a double ceremony, you know." She grinned at his chagrined expression.

"Truth be told, I simply didn't think. And yes, Sophie's quite lovely—at least _I _think so—and waiting another month for her might have driven me to drink." He grinned. "You might have come home to find me reeking of cheap ale and singing soulful love songs..."

Javana exploded with mirth at the mental image. "You mean like Sextus does when he's overimbibed? Though I wouldn't exactly call _those_ 'love songs'..."

"I heard that, sister!" Sextus caught his eldest sister up from behind, making her squeal as he lifted her high of the ground and whirled her before setting her back down again with a sound kiss on her rosy cheek.

"So, tell me of my new sister," Javana urged. "How did you meet? Do I know her family, or is she someone you've only met since my departure for Andelon? Does she keep you too occupied to remember how to pick up a pen and parchment?"

Sextus burst out laughing at that final jibe. "Oh,_ I_ can answer that last one! Seisyll's had his hands far too full lately to even think of writing letters, not even to his dearly missed sister." He grinned as Seisyll's cheeks grew slightly flushed. "And he only met her...when was it, Seisyll? December?"

"Yes. Mid-December, shortly before Christmas."

Javana's eyebrows rose. "And you married the first week of April? My, that was fast work!"

Seisyll grinned sheepishly. Sextus's eyes took on a gleeful glint. "Oh, yes, it was like watching one of those generals from Ancient Rûm in action. 'I saw, I conquered, I -'"

"Sextus!" Seisyll's hand shot out to smack his younger brother on the back of his head. Javana stared in bafflement for a few moments before the light dawned and the giggles began anew.

"Well, _you_ haven't changed, at least!" she said to Sextus. "When are you ever going to settle down and find yourself a woman to marry?"

The younger Arilan brother rolled his eyes. "On _my_ income? On a balmy day in West Hell."

"Don't listen to him," Seisyll advised with an eyeroll of his own. "If he didn't spend so much of his coin on strong drink and the dice games, he'd have more to spare for the upkeep of a decent woman."

Sextus snorted. "And if I were leg-shackled to the sort of woman you consider 'decent,' I'd truly be in need of that strong drink I'd have no coin left over for!"

"So," Javana said brightly before her two brothers could turn their formerly joking mood into a sibling spat, "Where is Sophie from?"

The brothers exchanged glances over her head. "Nyford area," Sextus said.

Seisyll remained silent, his formerly merry expression now quite serious. Javana turned to look at him in growing bafflement. "What is it?" she finally asked.

Seisyll studied her for a long moment, then sighed. "Well, you're bound to hear sometime or another, so I suppose there's little point in putting off telling you. Sophie is—that is, she _was_—a de Varnay. She's Sir Stefan's younger sister."

"She's-" A shaft of pain, white-hot, shot through Javana's heart. "Oh." She glanced away quickly to regather her composure, then smiled up at her brother, attempting nonchalance. "And how is Stefan? Well, I hope, and with no more worries over the family fortunes?"

Another shared look above her head. "Fairly well," Seisyll assured her after another brief silence, "although Stefan's and Sophie's father, Sir Ranulf, died unexpectedly this past January, waylaid by brigands on their way back to Kestrel Mote from spending Christmas and Twelfth Night in Rhemuth. Stefan nearly died in the attack also, but he remained stable long enough to be brought back to Rhemuth, where Bishop Duncan Healed him."

"Oh, Jesú..." Javana forced down the sudden upwelling of emotion. She belonged to another man now, was promised to Lord Walter. No use in dwelling on past loves, not when she had a wedding to prepare for, and a new life ahead learning to love a man who cared enough for her to pursue her as Stefan never had. Still, she was glad he was all right. As hurt and angry as she might have been with him once, she'd never wished him dead. "Well, I'm glad he's doing fine now, and I hope, since they were returning to Kestrel Mote when they were attacked, that he managed to retain his manorial lands after all."

Another quickly shared look. "Um, yes...that's the other thing, actually. Stefan...um...well, Sir Ranulf's fortunes were still in arrears when he died, so to secure his inheritance, Stefan ended up needing to marry quickly."

She absorbed the new shock, feeling strangely numb. "I see. An heiress, I presume?" The voice sounded slightly distant, as if coming from some other person's body, surely not her own.

"Yes." Seisyll's voice sounded gentle, or perhaps just equally distant, she wasn't sure which anymore. "He wed Lisette de Courcy just a few months past. The last week of January, I believe."

The words startled Javana out of her shock. "Our cousin Lisette? But...she rarely ever ventures off her father's lands! How did Stefan ever manage to meet her?"

The guilt and mute look of appeal in Seisyll's eyes answered the question for her before he even spoke.

#

_ May 15_

_ Tre-Arilan_

"Oh, Javana, that iridescent shot silk will make a perfect veil for you! Those dusky blue hues blended in with the shimmering violet silk threads of the weft makes it a nearly identical match for your eyes at this distance." Sophie gazed admiringly at her sister-in-law. "You Arilans have the most amazing eyes. I wish _I_ had them!"

Javana risked a quick look at Sophie's eyes, so much like Stefan's, then turned away, toying with the fabric draped around her face to mask her pain. "Oh, but yours are far better suited for your pretty brown hair, Sophie. And I think you're right, this will make perfect veiling fabric. I suppose I'd better start hemming it tonight, if it's to be finished in time to take to Caerdraig with me after the wedding."

"I've not met Lord Walter yet. What's he like, and are you excited about marrying him?"

The question was asked in all innocence. Javana folded the sheer veil silk slowly as she considered how to answer. Despite her anger at her brother, she couldn't bring herself to resent his new wife, who had gone out of her way to be welcoming and helpful to her in the short time since her return home to Tre-Arilan. Javana had worked out that Sophie knew only the smallest part of what had passed between herself and Sophie's brother—enough to know that they had once been acquainted and had been fond of each other, not enough to realize how deep Javana's love for him had once been...and was still, if she allowed herself to think of him. To actually _feel _her emotions instead of simply stuffing them down deep inside where they could trouble her no longer, because she had a life to get on with, and Stefan could no longer be a part of it.

"He's...quite courtly and attentive, and very handsome. A trifle impatient, I think, but then again, men tend to be...at least my brothers certainly are, and as for Uncle Denis..." Javana gave a drily amused snort. "Have you met Denis yet?"

"Oh yes, not too long ago!" Sophie smiled. "I adore him."

The amusement in Javana's eyes grew. "Oh? Well, I suppose someone has to." She grinned. "I expect you've not run into his curmudgeonly side yet."

Sophie giggled. "Of course I have. Sextus does still live here, you know, and I've seen their blow-ups. But he's all growl on the outside and a big pile of mush on the inside."

"Oh, Denis?" Jashana asked, entering Javana's chamber, her arms laden with new gowns for her sister's trousseau. "Yes, the nieces can do no wrong, and the nephews can do no right." The younger Arilan sister grinned. "I caught on to that ages ago. Uncle Denis is a sucker for the pitiful look too." She turned towards Sophie, miming a sorrowful expression. "See? Sad face." Jashana's features took on a kicked puppy expression so ludicrously pathetic that her new sister-in-law burst into giggles.

"You two must have been awful to that poor man when you were growing up!"

Jashana's eyes sparkled with mirth. "Oh, no more so than he deserved." She glanced at her sister. "Where do you want these?"

"The bed will be fine," Javana assured her somewhat absently.

#

_ May 18_

_ Tre-Arilan Great Hall_

The wedding guests began to arrive, even though the wedding itself would not be for a couple more days, but some of the family and friends gathering to celebrate the upcoming nuptials had traveled for several days to get there, and would doubtless be staying at least a day or two after the wedding before heading back home again. For some of those guests, this would also be their first time to meet the young Laird's new bride, the hostess for this family event. Sophie, therefore, was rather in a dither, being quite shy to begin with, and now fretting about making a good impression on her new husband's friends and relations.

One new arrival, however, brought a sparkle of joy to her eyes and a ready laugh to her lips as she threw herself into his embrace, savoring his warm hug and the familiar clove soap scent of him, so like their father's. "Oh, Stefan! How I've missed you!"

Stefan gave her an easy grin. "It's been, what, hardly more than a month since we parted ways? Surely you can't have missed me that much!" He tugged one of her braids teasingly, the grin subsiding slightly as he studied her. "Is married life everything you'd hoped, or shall I rearrange your new husband's face for you?" he joked, though his eyes scanned her expression in slight concern, in case her enthusiastic reaction to seeing him again owed more to unhappiness at her new station in life than simple sisterly love.

Sophie blushed, her eyes dropping demurely. "Oh, no, I quite like being married!" The blush deepened, and Stefan chuckled. "It's just...I'm still a little homesick, I suppose. Oh, not so much for Kestrel Mote, just for...family. _My _family. I know the Arilans are my family too now, but still...I'm only just getting used to things here, and being mistress of a manor is far different from simply living in one, especially since I didn't grow up here..."

He drew her close again, dropping a kiss on top of her veiled head. "You should steal away with Lisette sometime when you get a chance, then. I suspect she's feeling much the same way. She puts on a brave face, but I catch her wiping away tears sometimes when I walk into her bower. Maybe it would help to spend a little time with someone else who is going through the same thing."

"Oh, poor dear! And it must be so much worse for her too...no other family around to help ease her into things, aside from you." She paused, suddenly looking uncertain. "I mean...that is..."

Stefan smiled. "I know. No other women in the house, aside from the maidservants that is. No family aside from a husband, who's not only a man, but still mostly a stranger and one of those 'things' she's getting used to. I don't take offense, sweeting. I know that's one reason she has trouble opening up to me fully yet. But you and she seemed to get along well in Rhemuth, so I was hoping maybe spending a little time with you would help her in a way that I can't."

"I'd love that." She looked around. "Where is she?"

"Oh, she's not with me this trip, but we'll be passing back through in a few weeks, I expect. I was just up-"

"What in the hell is _he_ doing here?" Seisyll's face was thunderous as he approached the pair of them, gently steering Sophie by one elbow towards the nearby withdrawing room and gesturing curtly to Stefan to follow.

Sophie looked up at her husband, then back at her brother in bewilderment. "He's come for the wedding...Haven't you?"

"Wedding?" Stefan said, equally confused. "No, I was passing through this area on my way back from settling some of Lisette's affairs at her late father's estate."

"Oh!" Sophie looked from one man to the other. "I just assumed, since you and Javana knew each other, that you and Lisette had come up for...Stefan?"

Stefan turned pale, glanced at Seisyll, who stared back stony-faced. "Javana's getting married this weekend? I... Sorry, Seisyll; I had no idea. I'll leave, of course. I never meant to intrude..."

"Oh, you don't have to go... Seisyll!" Sophie turned imploring eyes towards her husband.

Seisyll took a deep breath, releasing it in a heavy sigh before turning to face his wife, his expression softening slightly. "Actually, love, he does. Your brother is welcome to visit you any other time, with or without Lisette, but not on this occasion." He glanced back at Stefan, steel in his eyes and voice. "Javana's endured enough grief already without a fresh reminder of you to reopen old wounds. She'll be marrying in two days' time. Please leave before she finds you here; the last thing she needs is to enter her new life with doubts and second thoughts, wondering if you _finally_ got around to coming for her two years late."

"Will someone please tell me what is going on?!" Sophie pleaded.

Seisyll raised an eyebrow at Stefan, who blushed, unable to meet his sister's gaze. "Later, sweeting," he assured her.

"I'll write you once I get home, Sophie," Stefan said quietly, turning to leave. "And I'll let you know when Lisette and I will be traveling this way again. Though under the circumstances, if you'd rather I simply drop her off for a visit and then pick her back up on my return trip..."

"Seisyll!" Tears filled Sophie's eyes as she turned hurt eyes towards her husband.

"Javana will be leaving for her new home in a few days, Stefan," Seisyll said. "I don't intend to bar my brother-in-law from his sister's home; her family is mine now, and as I said, you are welcome to visit some other time. But _not_ for Javana's wedding." He turned to Sophie. "See him out please, sweeting, and if at all possible, make sure Javana never finds out he was here."

#

_ May 18_

_ En route to Tre-Arilan, just outside Rhemuth_

"That man looks familiar," Sir Aylmer observed as he and Walter rode along the main road leading westward from Rhemuth. He glanced back over his shoulder at the rider who had just passed them.

Lord Walter glanced back also. "Lots of men look familiar, Aylmer. What of it?"

Aylmer frowned, trying to remember where he'd seen the man before. After a moment, the light dawned. "I believe that's the knight who attempted to court your lady a few years ago. The one whose letter I brought back to you."

"Oh?" Walter peered intently at the departing rider, trying to get a better view of him. "Well, at least he's heading away from Tre-Arilan, not towards there. Still, he shouldn't be in this part of the Kingdom at all, should he? He's a Nyford man, I thought."

"From Nyford area, yes," Aylmer confirmed, "though I heard a few months back that he'd married a woman from the western border."

"Ah." Walter nodded. "That probably explains it, then. Still, it wouldn't hurt to make sure he's not trying to win back his lost love. Once we're at Tre-Arilan, make some discreet inquiries, try to find out if he's been seeing Lady Javana again or not."

"And if he has, my lord?"

Walter smiled grimly. "Then kill him."


	7. Part Six

**Part Six—To Have and To Hold**

_ May 20, 1126_

_ Tre-Arilan_

"What therefore God hath joined together, let not man put asunder." Bishop Denis Arilan smiled at the new couple as he pronounced the benediction over them.

Javana glanced shyly up at her new husband, her blush growing as he drew her possessively into his arms for their first kiss before escorting her through the chapel doors for the nuptial Mass.

#

Walter thought the wedding feast would never end. He smiled and laughed through the well-wishing and the increasingly bawdy humor as the night wore on, but inwardly he was impatient for the public celebration to end so he could get on with the business he'd waited years for. Not the consummation—well, there was that also, and he was certain he would enjoy that immensely—but that special completing touch that would seal his new bride as fully his own, to rule and to control. That was important, for one thing that years of watching the Arilan family had taught him was that they were close-knit, despite their occasional spats and squabbles, and knew far too much of one another's business. That would have to end in Javana's case. He would brook no other loyalties in her life. She was his prize possession now, the crowning jewel in his collection of rare works, and he would own her wholly.

At long last their hostess stood, which was the cue for the other ladies present to join her in escorting Javana upstairs to the chamber which had been readied for their wedding night. Finally! As the women mounted the staircase, their joyful songs grew fainter until they could only be distantly heard, and then a door upstairs closed, shutting their voices off entirely. Sextus stood, raising a glass in a humorous toast. Walter, his mood improved, flashed his new brother-in-law a grin. It would not be long now.

#

_ May 21, early morning_

_ Tre-Arilan_

It had hurt. A lot. Javana had heard it might the first time, but after the bliss she'd experienced during that one brief encounter with Stefan those two years ago, she had assumed that any discomfort would be temporary, and quite overshadowed by the delights to follow. But that wasn't the case tonight. She'd thought at first that maybe it was just because she was so nervous still, and so new at all this. Sophie had tried to prepare her, in her own shy and modest way, by explaining what she might expect from her eager bridegroom, but what Sophie had described seemed nothing at all like what Javana had just experienced.

But odder than that to her were the questions. The door had hardly closed behind Uncle Denis and the wedding guests when her new husband's questions began.

"When was your last monthly flow?" He sat on his side of their marriage bed, eyes caressing her greedily, but making no move to touch her, much less hold her close to give her the reassurance she badly needed at that moment, as she lay beside the near-stranger full of nervous anticipation mingled with trepidation.

"Um..." She'd been caught so off guard by the unexpected question, it had taken a short while to remember. "I finished just a few days ago. Two, I think? My next shouldn't be for a while..." Maybe he was simply concerned that this might not be a good time to approach her, that she might be feeling unwell? That had to be it; Javana could think of no other reason why such a strange question would be the very first words to come from him as soon as they were alone together.

Whatever his reasons were, he'd seemed satisfied enough with her answer. "So, you started, what, a week before that? Hm. Should be safe enough tonight, I'd think, though I suppose it's good we'll be traveling across the Kingdom for the next week and a half."

This statement was, if anything, even more incomprehensible to her than his original question, though Javana trusted Walter would explain himself in time. He hadn't, though things had gotten a bit better right after that. He had taken her in his arms—finally!-brushing her unbound hair gently away from her face as if to get a better look at her, showering her with words of admiration. "Javana...such a lovely dove...my most priceless work of art...precious treasure..." The words had eventually had grown fewer and farther between, punctuated with kisses and caresses, which—once she'd focused on relaxing a bit—she'd found quite nice. A bit awkward, still. Not like kissing Stefan, which had felt so natural. But at least her new husband's interest in her had now become unmistakable.

Then the touches had grown more greedy, more grasping, and some of her initial nervousness had begun to return. He'd torn her night-rail then in his haste to see more of his new bride, and she'd grown frightened, but then Walter had pulled back to look at her again, a faint smile on his face. "Poor little bird. You truly _haven't_ done this before, have you?"

What a bizarre and, under the circumstances, rather insulting question to ask! What, had he expected that his new bride would not come to him a virgin? Javana had flushed at the question, looking away hastily, because in truth she'd come quite close to not being one anymore, had Seisyll not interrupted her tryst with Stefan when he did. She'd carefully shielded the thought, painfully aware that the man beside her was also Deryni, and fearing that he might know more—or might somehow guess at more—than she'd wish for him to ever learn about that youthful mistake. Most men, unless they were unusually forgiving, would not be understanding of such a lapse, and while she hardly knew Walter, she guessed instinctively that he did not fall in the category of unusually forgiving.

"No, my lord, I've not," she'd whispered, pulling the tattered cloth closer around her for the illusion of modesty it provided, though indeed the fabric was so sheer there was little point in doing so.

"Good, good, of course you've not. Of course, love," Walter had soothed her, his gaze never leaving hers as he continued to smile that faint smile. "Tell me, dear, when you were in Andelon, did they teach you about how to establish rapport with another Deryni?"

"Did they...?" What a ludicrous question! "Why, yes, my lord!" Some years ago, in fact, but perhaps he'd never had formal training, so maybe he didn't understand the usual order of such lessons.

"Ah, excellent! So..." He'd studied her as if the answer to his next question was of vital importance. "Did your teachers discuss with you the marital training bond?"

"The...marital..." Javana was utterly baffled. 'No, my lord."

Walter's smile broadened. "No? Ah, well, there's plenty of time for that later. But they at least mentioned some of the...ah...more intimate aspects of rapport between a husband and a wife?"

Ah. _That_ much, at least, she thought she could follow! Her blush deepened. "Yes, my lord," she murmured. The ability to merge as intimately on a psychic level as on the physical level was one of the great advantages of having a Deryni mate. Doubtless her new husband was hoping to establish a link that, in addition to forming a strong bond between them, would also make it possible to share sensory impressions mind-to-mind, thereby greatly increasing their chances of discovering mutual pleasure. She quite understood the theory, even if she'd hardly had the chance to experience the phenomenon in practice. Not since...

No. She mustn't think of _him_ now, of all times! She belonged to Walter now.

#

She was an amusing little bird, and so very nervous, trembling before him in that ridiculously sheer gown. He had regretted tearing the garment; it had been quite beautifully crafted, and Walter appreciated beauty in all of its forms. But it was hard to rein in his passion, with her so close now. Yet rein it in he must, for he could not afford to give in to it until he had established full control.

So for now, he kept her off balance, asking the questions he needed to ask to determine what things she knew, what things she did not. Ensuring she would not swell with his child if he slaked his desire for her tonight. He thought it safe enough to take her this night, though she would soon approach the days when he must avoid her bed to diminish any chance of marring her youthful shapeliness. It would be such a shame to have stalked and shadowed and pursued and finally won this prize of a woman, only to mar her irreparably on their very first coupling together.

"My darling, forgive my impatience, but I have waited so long for you, and I can wait no longer. Yet, if you'll permit me to link with you first, I hope I can make this first joining as man and wife a more pleasing experience for you."

She had accepted his offer, of course, a look of relief in those amazing dark amethyst eyes. Like a properly docile young bride, she'd opened her shields to him, and he'd responded in turn, extending his own to include her. There was, of course, a secondary set of shields inside her primary ones, protecting her most private thoughts and memories, but he'd expected that, especially since she'd had formal training and was accustomed to the sharing of minds, at least on a superficial level. In truth, the amount of sharing of his own mind would be little deeper than that—he was hardly of a mind to reveal _his _deepest secrets to the chit, after all! She'd run screaming from their wedding bed! He'd had to suppress a laugh, keeping the stray thought carefully concealed from her.

Then, once her mind had fully, trustingly, opened to him, he locked the controls into place. Oh, he'd been quite subtle in doing so, distracting her with strokes and kisses and his increasingly more ardent attentions, but eventually she realized he was doing something unexpected, something her Andelonian teachers had not prepared her for.

"Walter? What was that?"

He'd sent wordless soothing comfort into her mind. "I was just setting the training bond, my dove. It's normal."

She'd pulled away slightly, her eyes filled with questions. "That marital training bond you mentioned earlier? But...what's its purpose?"

Naïve little girl! He'd kissed her brow. "It will help you acclimate better to our marriage as we're getting to know one another. Trust me, dearest."

She looked slightly confused, but not suspicious. He continued to set the controls until he was satisfied they would yield satisfactory results.

"There we are, then!" He smiled down at her. "And now it's time for us to get to know each other very, very well."

#

It had hurt; one part of her mind registered that, even as her body was responding with increasing passion, as if she were now a puppet and someone else were pulling the strings. She'd felt a surge of panic then, but when she'd tried to cry out, she'd discovered she couldn't. At least she was unable to cry out in pain or in fear, though once she'd managed—through sheer force of will—to force the sound past the controls he'd set in her mind, but somehow they'd come out as moans of fevered pleasure instead. Her eyes had filled with tears then, the fear pouring down her face freely, but that had simply seemed to inflame Walter's desire for her, so at the last she'd forced herself not to respond, not to react. Simply to let her mind drift elsewhere until he was done with her. Even that didn't prevent her from noticing that her body was still acting as if it were somehow fully disconnected with her mind, but her mind was simply in too much shock to care anymore. Eventually he stopped, soon falling asleep, the look of sated satisfaction still curving his lips in a faint smile. Javana lay awake a long while longer, her body her own once more, or at least seemingly so for a time. But soon she discovered that any attempts to send a mental cry to her brothers for help were futile, for she discovered any such efforts remained trapped in her own mind. Nor would her body allow her to rise up from the bed and leave the room; the moment she tried, she found her steps bringing her straight back to Walter's side again.

_Help me! _She concentrated on forming the words with her mouth, but her lips insisted on forming a happy smile instead. At last she gave up her efforts, too exhausted to do more than review in her mind the events of the past two hours, trying to figure out what had happened to her, reliving the nightmare of discovering, too late, what Walter had done.

It was nearly dawn now. Javana eventually slipped into a restless sleep, filled with disturbed dreams.

#

_ May 20, after dawn_

_ Tre-Arilan_

"Was our wedding night everything you've ever dreamed, my dear?" Walter's ice blue eyes gleamed down at her as she awoke, appearing amused.

Javana edged slightly away from him. "Go to hell, you demon spawn," she growled, managing to move as far as the edge of the bed before the compulsion he'd set stopped her from retreating further.

"Ah, angry, are you? Well, that's to be expected, I suppose. You've been given free rein far too long, but you'll soon learn what's expected of you." Walter's smile grew. "Did I please you as well as Stefan did, my darling?"

The sound of her lost love's name falling from this man's lips struck her like a kick in the stomach. "M-my lord?!"

"Don't act the innocent, love." He rose from their bed with a careless shrug. "I suppose it matters not; what matters is that you're mine now, and mine you shall remain. Pack your things, dear, if you've not done so already; we've a long journey home, and I intent to get a start as soon as the noonday meal is finished. You may call your maids in to assist you if you wish." He dressed, leaving her to make her preparations to leave her childhood home.

#

Javana moaned quietly as Seisyll helped her up into her palfrey's saddle. He frowned slightly, looking up at her.

"Wait..." He flushed, glancing at Walter, then back up at her. "I simply didn't think, but...well, last night was your wedding night...do you wish to borrow our coach? We rarely have need of it, now that Mother is gone..."

Walter nudged his horse closer, his charming grin flashing down at her brother. "She'll be fine. Surely you don't think I savaged the poor girl last night?" He winked at his bride who, unable to respond as she truly wished, merely cast her gaze down demurely.

"I'm fine, truly, Seisyll," Javana found herself assuring her brother. "Just a little fatigued, and not looking forward to ten days of travel."

"Ah." Seisyll glanced back at his new brother-in-law, looking amused. "Fatigued, hm? Do go easy on my sister; the journey to the Kheldish Mountains will be arduous enough on her, having to ride all day, without having to ride all night on top of all that!"

Her husband chuckled. "No worries, that thought had already crossed my mind. I've already made arrangements for lodgings at short distances along the way; it will take us a fair bit longer to get home than I'm used to, but hopefully it won't be too wearing on Javana."

Seisyll glanced back at his sister, still a bit concerned. "Are you sure you can't stay a day or two longer?"

Walter shook his head. "I'm afraid not. I've been away from Caerdraig far too long already, and there's business there I shall need to attend to as soon as we're able to get back. Say goodbye, darling; we need to make haste if we're to arrive at our first stop before nightfall."

Javana said her goodbyes to her family and household, the smile on her face at complete odds to what she felt on the inside. Jashana tucked a small parcel into her saddlebag. "Don't forget to write!" she told her sister.

"I will!" Javana said. _I'll try, at least. _The thought that maybe writing would prove to be a way around the compulsion gave her a ray of hope to cling to.

_ You are happy, aren't you?_ Jashana suddenly Mind-Spoke, startling her.

_ Help me, he's set controls over me! _she tried to answer. _Very much so,_ her mind found itself sending back instead.

Walter and his lieutenant began to ride forth from Tre-Arilan. Javana was able to spare a final look back before following in her husband's wake.


	8. Part Seven

** Part Seven—Descent into Hell**

_ May 22, 1126_

_ Duchy of Haldane, en route to the Kheldish Riding_

Javana stared stonily at the path ahead as Walter spoke, her ears registering what he had to say, but her mind mutinous.

"You must realize, my dear, that things will go so much easier for you if you stop trying to resist me. Surely you do wish for us to have an amiable relationship, do you not, my darling?" He chuckled. "Learn what is expected of you, be a good wife to me, and you shall find I can make your life quite pleasant. I do long to please you, my sweet, but first you must understand my expectations and learn to live by them. That's why the training bond is necessary." Walter grinned. "You are by far the most beautiful woman I have ever had, but I'm afraid you are far from biddable."

"Though quite beddable," Aylmer observed. Javana shuddered as the man raked her with his eyes.

"Quite," her husband agreed, "though not for you, I'm afraid, Aylmer. This one, I don't share."

_Thank Jesú for small mercies, then!_ Javana thought, feeling a sudden surge of nausea. She'd not thought to consider that matters might get worse than they already were.

"Aye. Pity, though, that I didn't think to inquire after her sister." Aylmer shrugged. "Not that I'm really looking for a wife at present."

"Well, you should, Aylmer. Marriage is a sacrament, and like all sacraments, given to man for the betterment of his soul." Walter gave his lieutenant a sardonic smile. "_I_ certainly feel the better for it already!"

While the two men bantered, Javana considered her escape options. Her compulsion would not allow her to urge her horse to flee, yet as far as she knew, the horse itself was not under any compulsion. It followed her commands as well as any trained beast; she simply was not able to command it to do anything but follow along with Walter and his odious knight. She wondered, if she were to lay down the reins and simply let the beast have its head, if there were some way to engineer a situation which might provoke it to flight. But no, even if she could figure out how to manage such a thing, and was able to remain in the saddle while it made its wild run, once she took the reins in hand again, doubtless the compulsion would simply force her to direct her mount back towards Walter. No, that was no way out, then. She'd have to wait for a more likely opportunity, and preferably one less likely to get her killed in the process of trying it.

"You know, my precious, I am only being so harsh with you now because you have proven faithless and fickle. Once you have convinced me of your loyalty, you'll find me a far more indulgent husband. I'll not brook infidelity, Javana."

Javana turned an incredulous look towards her husband. "When have I proved faithless, my lord? We've only been wed two days, and before that I had mere days between our betrothal and my parting for Andelon! Surely you're not thinking I went abroad for a nine-month tryst?!"

"Of course not. You were most carefully chaperoned, I'm assured. I'm speaking of before that. _You_ know of whom I speak."

Javana's face flamed as she realized what he was obliquely referring to. "That's hardly fair, my lord; my acquaintance with...with the man in question ended before you and I ever met. I can hardly be charged with infidelity to you then, considering I had no idea I would end up as your wife! I cannot think of how you even know about that...very brief relationship."

"Can you not, dear?" Walter glanced at Aylmer with a wry smile, then turned back to face his bride. "You were _mine_, my dove; you always were, whether you knew it or not. And you may not have known you'd be _my_ wife, but surely you knew you'd be _someone's_ wife someday! You had no business dallying with the likes of _him_."

"Yes, I had every expectation of being someone's wife someday... _His!_" Javana's eyes flashed angry fire.

"It's fortunate he wasn't so foolish as to offer, then," Walter said coolly. "I'd hate to have to kill a knight of the Kingdom. He'd surely be missed." He gave his new wife a cold appraisal, his eyes traveling slowly down her and back up to his face. "You were naught but a strumpet to him, you know; nothing but a plaything to be enjoyed and then cast thoughtlessly aside. You deserved better, and I was ready to give it to you. And I still may...once you've earned it back."

Javana turned away, feeling shamed and humiliated. After a moment, she asked, "How may I earn it back?" She truly cared nothing about pleasing him—he could jump into the Lake of Fire, for all she cared!-but as Seisyll had once explained to her about war strategy, one of the most important rules to remember was to know one's enemy. Walter was most certainly her enemy, and in her two days of marriage to him, Javana had become convinced she was now engaged in a war against him to save her own body, mind, and soul. Seisyll had also told her that warfare is based on deception of the enemy. Walter might have control over what she was able to do, but he had not, so far at least, managed to control what she thought, nor had he stripped away her ability to keep her innermost thoughts shielded from him. Had he been able to, she was fairly certain, he'd have done so by now. Since he had not, this was a potential weakness in his control over her that she must find some way to exploit. And because she still retained the freedom to think freely, she must carefully guard those thoughts and plans which he might consider disloyal until she could find some way to get around his compulsions and put them into play.

Her compulsion might not allow her to tell Walter any outright lies, and even if it did, Javana hardly dared do so, for he could surely detect any such lies by means of simple Truth-Reading. But lies of omission certainly seemed possible. So far, her compulsion had not forced her to tell Walter anything she wished to keep unsaid. Another chink in his control that she must figure out how to use to her own advantage.

Walter looked pleased by her question. Javana forced her mind back to what he was saying. "How may you earn it back? By being a docile and dutiful wife to me, of course; that shall be the start. After that...well, you've broken my trust, darling, so you must realize it shall take some time to win it back. You must prove to my satisfaction that I have your unfailing loyalty in all things for all our days together."

_Which shall be short!_ Javana prayed. "And how must I prove that?"

Walter smiled. "By being unquestionably obedient in all things that I may ask of you. Attempt to resist me, and you will bring unnecessary pain and sorrow upon yourself. Honor and aid me as a loyal wife should, and you prove yourself worthy of trust. Earn enough trust, and I may someday be persuaded to remove your controls."

He lied. Oh, he had been telling the truth until the last, but his final words were a lie; she'd not dared to Truth-Read him as he spoke, knowing he would detect any such effort, but her gut instinct told her so nonetheless. Walter, she was certain, was not the sort of man to give up any power which was already in his grasp. He would never willingly break the hold he had on her; she was even more convinced of that now.

She rode in silence behind him, trying not to fall into utter despair.

#

_ May 30_

_ Barony of Caerdraig, the Kheldish Mountains_

The road to Caerdraig Castle wound its way up the side of a mountain, twisting back and forth upon itself in serpentine undulations, making its way inexorably upwards towards the castle itself. Along the way, Javana spotted several small cavern-like openings in the rocky mountain face, bolstered with wooden supports, and also several unfamiliar wooden structures and mechanical equipment visible from the main route. Walter noticed the direction of her curious gaze at one point and smiled. "My mines," he said proudly. "The primary source of Caerdraig's wealth. The soil is rich enough, but rocky and hard to till, so we only produce enough crop goods for our own use with little surplus left over to sell. But the mines more than make up for that."

"Those openings are mine entrances, then?"

"Yes; those lead into mine tunnels. There are mine shafts as well...see that structure higher up the slope?" Walter pointed out what looked to be a roof on support pillars and some sort of wheel and crank mechanism beneath it the likes of which Javana had never seen before. "There's a mine shaft beneath that shelter; the roof helps keep the rain out so it won't flood, though of course mines tend to fill with ground water as well, so we have equipment to drain water out or draw it up, as from a well, so it's safe for the miners to go down below." He chuckled drily. "Well, as safe as mining ever gets, that is. It's inherently hazardous work, but well worth the effort."

_And the occasional lost man?_ Javana wondered, wondering if Walter had ever been down in one of his own mines.

"They're paid handsomely enough for their labors," Walter said with a faint smile, as if he'd been reading her thoughts, though his wife was careful to keep them well shielded.

The horses rounded another bend in the road. Javana caught her breath at the sight ahead of them. Caerdraig Castle seemed to shine like a jewel at the crown of the mountain. Its Baron practically gleamed with pride himself.

"Our home," he said.

It was beautiful, Javana had to admit, though its beauty was diminished greatly by the thought of the man she was compelled to share it with. Lush forests carpeted the mountain slopes, where the trees had not been cut down to clear land for mining or for the occasional crop field (though most of the croplands, Walter had explained earlier, were lower down at the mountain's base), but the space immediately surrounding the castle walls was cleared of timber, so the castle was displayed in its full glory.

Sir Aylmer rode up ahead, heralding the Baron's arrival with his new Baroness. As they approached the outer gatehouse, the portcullis opened to let the travelers in. The people of Caerdraig watched curiously as Javana rode into the outer bailey. She studied the fortifications of the castle equally intently, knowing that the defenses of her new home might also serve as prison walls unless she could figure out some way to win over Lord Walter and persuade him to leniency. His household guard was doubtless loyal to their Baron; she could count on no help from that quarter, at least not yet, even if she could somehow manage to make her plight known. Not until she knew how deep their loyalties ran, at least, and if some might be willing to be swayed to aid their Baroness instead.

The riders rode through the inner gatehouse. A second portcullis lowered behind them, inexorably closing Javana off from the outside world.

#

_ June 5_

_ The Dragon Inn, Village of Caerdraig_

"The Night Stalker's back again, is he?"

The hushed voices at The Dragon discussed the latest grisly discovery in the forest just outside the village of Caerdraig. She was barely into womanhood, this one, judging from the size of her remains, and appeared to have lain there undiscovered for some time. Undiscovered by humans, that is, though what was left of her appeared to have been well picked over by predators. Enough of her clothing and a few locks of hair remained for her discoverers to have ascertained that she was female, despite the ravaged condition of her body.

"Nay, we don't know that," said a second man, taking a deep quaff of his ale in an effort to rid himself of the images of the dead woman. He had helped to bury her remains earlier that day. "She's been out there in the forest only God knows how long. He may have moved on by now, whoever done her in." He shook his head. "I don't reckon any of you lot recognized her?"

"A bit hard to recognize," the first man replied. "But I can't think of any blondes that have gone missing recently, can you?"

"Not stayed missing, no," another man spoke up, "though John Miller's daughter disappeared that one evening coming home from the fair last summer, and couldn't rightly say where she'd been when they found her wandering about up the mountain the day after, remember?"

"Aye, I remember. Fetching little piece, but never quite right in the head after that, as I recall. She was betrothed to William Thatcher's lad before that, wasn't she, but the Church had to give him a dispensation on account of her not being of sound enough mind afterwards to give consent to marry? Or am I thinking of the wrong girl?"

"Nay, that's the one." The men fell silent as the sipped at their drinks.

"What's to be done about him?" one finally asked, wiping the foam off his mustache.

"About who, the Night Stalker?" The second man snorted. "Have to catch him at it first, if he's even still about. No telling who he might be. Could be one of _us_, for all I know." He glanced around at his companions. "Not that I really believe that, mind, but who knows _who_ the bastard is, after all?"

"Aye." There was nothing that could be said against that, really. They'd all just have to keep an eye out, and be ready to raise the hue and cry if any man saw anyone suspicious in the village or up at the mines. The Baron would see justice done, they knew, if they could only find the guilty man and offer up the necessary evidence against him. He had assured his people of that, and Baron Walter was a good man, if a bit reserved and not given to mingling with the common folk overmuch. The Branigans had served the village of Caerdraig well over the generations, even as they'd served him.

"St. Piran watch over us all, then," the first speaker said finally, invoking Gwynedd's patron saint of miners, for many of the people of Caerdraig worked in its mines, though of course there were those who worked in its fields and forests, and quite a few trades-folk as well.

"St. Piran, aye. And Our Lady protect the womenfolk too," said the second, crossing himself reverently. "They need it most."

The men finished their drinks in silence, then left coin on the table for the innkeeper's wife, filing out into the darkness of night to return to their homes in the village. Somewhere up on the mountain, close to the castle walls, a wolf howled. The men shivered despite the warmth of the evening.


	9. Part Eight

** Part Eight—Reunion**

_ March 25, 1127_

_ Tre-Arilan_

Seisyll curled up beside his sleepy wife, who cradled their newborn daughter in her arms. "I used the shiral to contact Javana last night and let her know you'd come through Stefania's birth just fine. She was happy to hear it, but she doesn't think she'll be able to come for the christening next week."

Sophie turned disappointed eyes to her husband. "Oh, I was so hoping they could be here, especially since she and Walter arrived in Rhemuth a bit earlier than we'd expected for Easter Court; surely Walter wouldn't mind a short side-trip while they're in the area, given the circumstances? Or if the King can't spare Walter for more than a day or two, perhaps Walter and Javana could just come up for the day of the christening feast, since they're so close, or Javana could come alone. They could easily stay here a couple of days and still be back in time to Rhemuth for Easter Court. It's the first Sunday in April this year, isn't it?"

"Yes, on the third." Seisyll nodded, looking thoughtful. "You know, I'll bet that possibility hadn't occurred to her. I'll see if I can contact her again and suggest it."

"You'd think it might have occurred to Lord Walter," Sophie groused, though a huge yawn from her newborn daughter distracted her and she soon forgot her irritation at her brother-in-law, pointing out the cute expression to her husband, who gazed fondly down at both females. "She's as lovely as her mother, dearest," Seisyll assured his wife with a smile, kissing her brow tenderly. "Thank you for our daughter."

"You don't mind that our firstborn is a girl?"

He raised a brow at her. "Why would I? I'm sure an heir will come along soon enough, and in the meantime, I get a little princess to spoil." Seisyll rolled his eyes. "Though why I should look forward to that, I don't know. She'll probably end up like her Aunt Jashana, and I'll have _two _hellions to tend to."

Sophie laughed. "Jashana's hardly _that_ bad, she's just high-spirited! And anyway, she'll be marrying Ethan soon enough, and after that she'll officially be Not Your Problem." She grinned at her husband. "And you'll miss her. You _know_ you will!"

"I will," he admitted with a grudging smile, "just as I miss my other sister, now that she's living all the way across the Kingdom. Though it will be nice to have one less sibling underfoot daily, you must admit."

"I suppose," Sophie said a trifle wistfully, "though I do like having another lady around to talk to."

"I know you do," Seisyll said. "Anyway, she and Ethan won't be living so far away; I'm sure you'll still see each other often enough. Or you know, I really don't mind you visiting Rhemuth whenever you get lonely for other company. It's only a few seconds away by Transfer Portal, after all, or we could ride into the city together once you're feeling up to it again and the weather is more favorable."

"Hm. There is that." Sophie stroked the top of their baby's head, looking thoughtful. "I wish Javana had a Transfer Portal at Caerdraig; I'm sure Lord Walter would relish some easier way to get from the Kheldish Riding to Rhemuth and back every year. Not to mention it would make it a lot easier for her to come visit us now and again. Maybe you could mention that the next time you contact her? It seems a bit odd Lord Walter wouldn't have one already…."

"Not really," Seisyll said. "We only know that he's Deryni; his father and the rest of his male line may have been human, in which case there'd have been little need for a Transfer Portal at Caerdraig before Lord Walter inherited his title. And so many Deryni and half-Deryni lack formal training nowadays, he may not know how to create one. After all, your family is full Deryni, but you didn't even know Kestrel Mote once had a Portal until Lisette found those remains of one last winter."

Sophie sighed. "You're right. Too bad it doesn't work anymore. I wish my father had maintained it!"

"Sir Ranulf may never have even known it was there, love. It's a very old Portal, probably created when Kestrel Mote was first built, and from the feel of it, not used in several generations. I'm not sure even Denis would know how to reactivate it now, though I suppose there's no harm in asking him. It might be easier just to go ahead and create a new one, though that's Stefan's decision to make, if he wants one."

Sophie looked warily at her husband as a sudden thought occurred to her. "If Javana decides to come to Stefania's christening, is Stefan still welcome?"

Seisyll sighed. "Yes. Javana's married now, and Stefan is family. I'm hardly going to bar him from his own niece's christening. If Javana manages to come, she'll just have to cope with seeing him here. At any rate, hopefully that won't even be an issue anymore, now that she's been wed to Walter coming up on a year."

#

_ March 27_

_ Forest glade, just outside of Tre-Arilan_

Sir Ethan of Mainwaring sat in the shade of a large oak tree, sitting upon his spread-out cloak, his bride-to-be in his arms. Jashana Arilan lifted her face for another kiss.

"Must you return to Mainwaring so soon?" she asked.

"Only for a short while," he answered. "After the christening, I'll need to return to Rhemuth for Easter Court, then go home after that to tend to some manorial business." He dropped a tender kiss on her brow. "Maybe Seisyll might let you come back with me, so you can get acquainted with your future home. I could bring you back the end of April, if he can spare you for a few weeks."

Jashana snorted. "Without Sophie available to chaperone me? Maybe pigs fly!"

Ethan turned his attention to his betrothed's lips, silencing her for a long moment before he added, "My sister would be glad to chaperone you."

Jashana laughed. "Your sister who keeps conveniently falling asleep or getting 'lost' every time we visit the gardens at Rhemuth Castle together? I'd love that, but Seisyll would never agree."

"You'd love that, would you?" Her knight chuckled as he began nuzzling her neck. "My sweet little wanton!"

"And who made me so?" she whispered, her eyes drifting shut with pleasure.

Ethan drew her down onto his cloak, answering her question without words.

#

Javana looked coolly at her husband, playing the card she knew was most likely to alter the course of the game. "It would look rather strange for us to be so close to Tre-Arilan and not attend my niece's baptism, don't you think? You wouldn't want the whole Court to think you utterly without family feeling!"

Walter scowled as he considered this new thought. As much as he disliked the thought of allowing his wife to return to her childhood home and her altogether too inquisitive family, there was little chance that the word of the newest Arilan arrival had not reached Rhemuth already, and while it would be readily accepted that his primary purpose in venturing so far from the Kheldish Riding this time of year was to attend Easter Court, the busybodies that infested Rhemuth would also be expecting him to observe such social niceties as being in attendance at his wife's family's religious observances. So be it, then. They could drop by Tre-Arilan for a day, but he would stay by his wife's side the entire time, sticking to her closer than a shadow. He had no reason to believe she had found some way around the controls he had set in her mind, but why take chances?

"I suppose we could stop by for a short visit," Walter allowed.

Javana dropped her eyes, carefully shielding the sudden burst of triumph she felt, and gave her husband a polite murmur of thanks.

"You will, of course, be prepared to show me your gratitude once we are alone tonight." Walter gave her a slow smile.

Javana turned slightly pale, but did not argue. She would bear his attentions as she always did now, detaching her mind and forcing herself to think of something else. It was a small price to pay for the chance to see her family again.

#

_ March 30_

_ Tre-Arilan_

Seisyll cradled his daughter Stefania, wrapped in her bearing cloth of fine white linen embroidered with pearls, in his arms on her baptismal day. She had loudly protested the salt placed in her mouth and the cold water of the baptismal font, but now that she was safely restored to her father's arms, her wails had subsided to quieter grumblings.

The family and friends left the chapel at Tre-Arilan to return to the Great Hall, where a feast of celebration had been prepared. Sophie was waiting there already. Since she had been delivered of her child but a few days earlier, she had not yet been churched, but the midwife had checked on her earlier that morning and had proclaimed her fit to leave her bedchamber and join her guests for the day, so long as she did not over-exert herself and she returned to her bed early that evening to get the rest she needed as a new mother. Seisyll handed his firstborn child over to her mother as soon as they had returned to the Hall. The baby clung tightly to her mother's gown, rooting instinctively, looking for the comfort of her mother's breast. Sophie made a discreet exit to the withdrawing room to tend to her child's need, leaving her husband to play the gracious host to their guests.

She looked up from her bench as someone else entered the room, a ready smile springing to her lips as she noticed who the new arrival was. Gathering her light cloak more closely around her, both for warmth and for modesty's sake, she greeted her husband's uncle. Denis smiled back, settling onto the bench next to her, politely averting his gaze from her both for her comfort and his own. "How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Sleepy, but then I always seem to be since Steffie's birth." Sophie laughed. "I'd always heard babies are a lot of work, but I didn't know the half of it, apparently! The new nursemaid is a help, but I'm still waking up throughout the night whenever Steffie is hungry."

The bishop chuckled. "You'll have an easier time of it once she's sleeping through the night a bit and not needing you so often. At least Lady Alix used to pray for those days with each new infant." He glanced at his steepled fingers in thought. "You _could_ hire a wet nurse, you know."

"I know. I just hate to hand her over to anyone else, even for a moment." Sophie sighed. "I expect that will change too, eventually, but for now at least, I can spare the time and energy for tending to her myself."

"Well, you would know better than I would what you're able to manage, I imagine." Denis smiled. "Would you like to see your daughter's baptism?"

Sophie turned eager eyes up to her uncle-by-marriage. "Please!"

He took her hand, sharing his memories of the christening ceremony with her, mind to mind.

#

Seisyll embraced his sister Javana, offering up a quiet prayer of thanksgiving that she had been able to make it to Stefania's baptism after all. Walter stood behind and slightly to one side of his wife, a hand on her shoulder, smiling genially as he greeted his brother-in-law again for the first time since his wedding to Javana and their subsequent leave-taking the following day.

"She's beautiful!" Javana quietly assured her brother, referring to her new niece. Seisyll gave her a proud smile, though inwardly he felt a twinge of dismay as he studied his sister covertly. She seemed more subdued than he could ever remember her being, save perhaps for those first weeks after Stefan's desertion of her, and although she seemed to be in good health at first glance, a closer look showed new signs of strain in her eyes. She seemed to him to have lost a little weight; not enough to cause undue worry, yet enough to make him wonder if she had recently fallen ill. Then again, after having lost a mother to a wasting disease, he could well be overreacting. Perhaps he was simply imagining the changes, or they might be due to her natural maturation rather than the result of some recent illness or unhappiness. It had, after all, been nearly a year since he'd last seen his sister.

"I think she looks a great deal like her Aunt Javana," Seisyll said with a smile, wishing he could steal a private moment with his sister, but other guests were demanding his attention now. Perhaps later that evening, then, or early the next morning. He made a mental note to set aside some extra time to spend with his sister while she was there. Perhaps they could steal away for an hour for a morning's ride, as they'd used to do in younger years, and he could find out how she had been faring in the past few months.

"How can you tell, with a newborn?" his sister said, her lips curving slightly upwards at the corners, though the smile didn't travel quite as far as her eyes. "She could end up looking more like Jashana or, God help you, just like Sextus…."

"I heard that!" Sextus Arilan called out as he approached his eldest sister to gather her in a hug. "And what's wrong with looking like me, I'd like to know?"

"Nothing much, I suppose," Seisyll said, turning to his brother with a teasing grin, "if you're a boy. Stefania's going to have a rough time of it if she ends up looking _exactly_ like you, though. I might have to increase her dowry."

"Stefania…." Javana repeated the name quietly. "Is she named for our grandmother, or for her uncle?"

Seisyll and his brother exchanged glances. "Both," Seisyll said.

"I…suppose that's fitting. It's a lovely name," Javana said somewhat absently, looking slightly past them. Seisyll turned to find his brother-in-law Stefan regarding them, apparently caught off guard but hastily summoning up a smile of courteous greeting.

#

She hadn't seen him in nearly three years. Javana de Branigan's fingers shook slightly as she offered Stefan her hand to kiss. Stefan de Varnay bowed over it, lips kissing the air just above her skin, so close she could feel the warmth of his breath. She suppressed her reaction to the brief contact, her mind and face a mask, acutely conscious of Walter standing close behind her, watching with predatory eyes above a cordial smile.

"Stefan," she said quietly, dipping into a polite curtsey. An exclamation sounded behind him, and Javana looked past her former suitor to see his wife—her cousin—approaching, a happy smile on her face, seemingly oblivious to the undercurrents of tension swirling around the pair.

Javana pasted on a smile. "Lisette!" She accepted her cousin's embrace, kissing her on the cheek as they'd been in the habit of greeting each other long ago, and making sure that Lisette could see her lips before speaking again, for her cousin could not hear spoken words anymore and was dependent on lip-reading or Mind-Speech to understand what was said to her.

"Look at you!" Lisette was saying in her oddly-inflected voice. "You're all grown up now, and so lovely!"

Javana stared at Stefan's wife. "And you're…radiant." Lisette was, but that was not the first word that had come to Javana's mind. No, 'huge with child' was closer to her original thought. "When is our niece or nephew due?" She forced her voice to casualness. Neither term was strictly accurate for what Lisette's child would be in relation to herself, but she must learn to think of Stefan as a brother-by-marriage now, not as a former lover who might have, had life been kinder, become her husband and the father of her children.

"In May," Lisette answered with a smile at her husband. "Our first. Javana, have you met my husband Stefan?"

The blue-violet Arilan gaze met hazel De Varnay eyes. "We...have a prior acquaintance, yes," Javana managed.

Sophie appeared just then, carrying Stefan's sleeping namesake and sparing Javana from the awkward moment. "Javana! I thought I recognized your voice." She gave her sister-in-law a one-armed embrace, smiling at her. "I'm so glad you and Lord Walter were able to make it after all!" She curtseyed to Walter, who returned the courtesy with a polite nod of his own.

Javana recovered enough to make introductions all around, acutely aware of Walter's gaze upon her as she did so. She wondered what price he would exact for this later, once they were alone. It wouldn't matter to him that she hadn't engineered the encounter, would gladly have avoided it if she could. It would be a reminder of what he saw as her previous disloyalty to him, and so she would be found at fault for it.

His strong arm squeezed her shoulders briefly, and she shivered.

#

"Come, Sister!" Jashana took Javana's hand in hers, pulling her towards the other end of the Hall. "There's someone I'd like you to meet." She smiled a winsome smile at Javana's husband. "Pray excuse us, Lord Walter; I'll bring her back directly." Before Walter could summon up a reply, the younger Arilan sister had taken his wife away, guiding her to a small room just off the Great Hall.

Walter watched them until they disappeared through the open doorway, though he kept enough attention on the conversation going on around him to make the proper responses when anyone spoke to him. He was far from pleased, although he kept any hint of his feelings out of his expression. His eyes scoured the room until they fell on Sir Aylmer.

_My Baroness has withdrawn to the small room behind the dais_, he Mind-Spoke to Aylmer. _Go keep an eye on her. _ The knight looked up, meeting Walter's eyes briefly in acknowledgment, then found a pretext to wind up the conversation he'd been having with Seisyll's nearest neighbor, excusing himself after a few moments to slip discreetly out of the Hall. Walter's ice cold eyes followed Aylmer until he, too, was out of sight.

#

"This is my betrothed, Sir Ethan of Mainwaring," Jashana was saying, her face alight with joy. Javana murmured polite greetings to the man, suppressing a twinge of envy at her sister's obvious happiness in her relationship. "Ethan, beloved, this is my favorite sister Javana."

Javana's lips formed a faint grin. "Not to mention I'm her _only_ sister." She extended a hand for Jashana's handsome knight to bow over.

"Enchanted, my lady." Ethan's warm brown eyes sparkled with amusement as he glanced at her, then at Jashana. "Jashana has missed you a great deal over the past year. She's been filling my ears with stories of your youthful escapades together. Hopefully once we're wed and Jashana has had time to settle into Mainwaring, we might have the pleasure of your company sometime. And your lord husband's, of course."

Javana smiled noncommittally. It was unlikely Walter would allow her to visit, though there was no way she could say so without raising questions her controls would not allow her to answer honestly. Though now that she was temporarily out from under Walter's watchful gaze, she wondered if there might be some way around the compulsion to stay silent that she might discover; some hint she might be able to get across that all was not well with her, even if she could not come straight out and say what was wrong.

"Or perhaps you might happen to be in the area of Caerdraig sometime," Javana said carefully, deliberately not couching it as an invitation, for had she tried to invite her family to Walter's baronial seat, she knew that the control in her mind would change the words to something completely unrelated and innocuous before they could leave her mouth. "Though I'd not recommend travel in that part of the Kingdom right now." Honest words, those, and yet so far she had not managed to say anything forbidden that would cause the control to kick in.

Jashana gave her a look of startled curiosity. "Oh? Why not?"

Here, then, would be the test, but as far as all Javana's experimentation with the boundaries of her controls had shown, they were only triggered if she tried to make a direct appeal for help, or to tell someone what she was experiencing personally. "There have been deaths and mysterious disappearances of late in the Riding," she whispered quickly. "Mostly women. Also women who have had...strange things happen to them...evidences of possible rapes and other forms of…tampering, lost memories..."

Jashana glanced at Ethan quickly, then back at Javana. "What sort of things, sister?" she whispered back. "And do you mean Deryni tampering?"

But Javana had seen a movement out of the corner of her eye. She extended her senses slightly, felt Sir Aylmer's presence lurking in the shadowed doorway.

"I...couldn't say, Jashana," she said swiftly, keeping her voice low. "But truly, it's not a good time to visit Caerdraig or any of the surrounding countryside. Not a good time at all."

#

"What were they talking about?" Walter asked Sir Aylmer once Javana was back in his sight and he had a private moment to speak with his lieutenant.

"I only came in on the tail end of the conversation," Aylmer told him, "but it sounded like your wife's sister was hoping to be invited to Caerdraig. Your lady told her that such a visit would be inconvenient."

Walter frowned slightly. If such was the case, then there was nothing in what Javana had said that he could disapprove of. Still, he felt troubled.

"Watch her closely for the duration of our stay, Aylmer. If she as much as coughs, I want to know about it. I don't trust these people. The sooner we're away from here and back home, or at least back in Rhemuth, the better."


	10. Part Nine

** Part Nine—Murders Most Foul**

_ April 5, 1127_

_ Tre-Arilan_

The Arilans guests had come and gone, but still there was no rest for the household until the following week, for right after Stefania's baptismal celebration had come Easter Court. The Arilan men returned with Sir Ethan to Rhemuth for the weekend, leaving Jashana to tend to Sophie, who was still recovering from her first childbirth, not to mention the effects of sleep deprivation. Walter and Javana had already returned to Rhemuth before the others, Walter claiming he had some personal matters to attend to before Court. So it wasn't until Court was over and the Arilans had a chance to return home and recover from their busy week that they had a chance to compare their impressions of Javana's odd behavior during her all too brief visit for Stefania's christening.

"Perhaps she was simply tired—they _did_ have that long journey from the Kheldish Riding, with just a few days to rest before their visit here—but Javana didn't seem quite herself the whole time she was here," Sophie mused. "Though granted, all of you would know far better than I would."

"Maybe she and Walter had some sort of a spat just before they arrived," Seisyll ventured, though the guess didn't ring true once he gave himself another moment to think about it. Or, if it was some sort of marital conflict that had caused Javana's strangely subdued mood, he had the feeling it was not some brief passing discord, but something of much longer duration. He could not have said why he thought so; it was more of a gut feeling than anything else. Seisyll looked troubled as he tried to figure out on a conscious level what had inspired that instinctive guess.

"Do you think it was just the shock of seeing Stefan and Lisette again, especially with a baby on the way?" Sextus guessed.

Seisyll quickly shook his head at the notion. "No, I was talking to her before she noticed he was there, and something seemed wrong to me from the very outset."

"Maybe it's just taking her a while to settle into marriage," Sophie mused. "Lord Walter seems the strong-willed sort, and Javana... Well, it might be different if they'd had a true love match going into it, but maybe it's just taking them longer to bond. I imagine that would make it harder to settle into married life." She looked thoughtful. "Walter certainly seems devoted to her, though. If anything, maybe a little _too_ devoted; he hardly let her out of his sight the entire time! I just...didn't get the impression that the feeling was mutual." Sophie shrugged. "Or maybe I just imagined that; it could simply be that Walter felt more comfortable staying with his wife all evening rather than mingling with a group of near-strangers."

"Mayhap," Sextus said doubtfully, "though if you're thinking he's simply a shy sort, I don't think so. I've seen him at Court, and he can mingle and charm his way through a room with little effort if he chooses to. No, I think it's something besides that."

Jashana listened to her brothers' and sister-in-law's impressions before speaking up. "Javana said something very odd to me when I was introducing her to Ethan. At the time, I meant to pursue it further, but Sir Aylmer interrupted, and she seemed to want to drop the subject. It was one of the rare times when she was apart from Walter; I wonder if she felt freer to talk without him listening in on every word?"

"What did she say?" Seisyll asked.

Jashana shared the memory of that odd interlude in the withdrawing room directly mind-to-mind with her family, not wishing any detail of it to be lost in a mere verbal retelling. Seisyll's frown deepened. "That's..._very _strange," he mused. "Sextus..."

"Get ready to tour the beautiful Kheldish Mountains?" his younger brother quipped, though his voice sounded grim. "I can, but if Javana meant to ask us to investigate, why didn't she simply ask outright?"

"Walter strikes me as the very private sort who doesn't like others meddling in his affairs," Sophie considered. "Maybe Javana is worried he'd take it the wrong way if she asked someone else to look into the strange goings-on in his barony?"

"Or maybe she felt, since it's not officially 'King's business,' that she hadn't the right," Jashana guessed. "But I suspect Kelson would want it looked into anyway, were he to find out about it."

"Hm. And if Kelson were to send us in officially, Walter might well take that amiss, thinking the King believes him incapable of taking care of matters in his own barony. That would be a serious affront to his pride." Seisyll nodded. "Perhaps that's why Javana simply hinted at the problem."

Sextus snorted. "All right. So I'm supposed to...what, unofficially start hanging about the Riding and keeping my ears open, using _what_ for a pretext, since obviously I can't claim to have been invited by our sister, who expressly told us this would _not_ be a good time for a visit?" He raised his hand as Seisyll opened his mouth to make a retort. "Not that I'm disagreeing that it needs to be looked into; I'm just saying I'd better have a plausible reason for being up there, under the circumstances, since I can't very well simply ride up to Walter's gates and say, 'Greetings, new brother; my sister says this is a bad time for us to come calling because the women of your barony keep turning up missing, so how 'bout a pallet by the hearth?'"

"Seisyll...Are you sure you want to send Sextus? This sounds like it might be dangerous." Sophie bit her lower lip, looking worried. "I mean, if people are disappearing...  
"It's potentially dangerous," Seisyll agreed, "though Sextus is perfectly capable of looking after himself, sweeting. Though it would probably be a good idea to bring someone else in to watch your back," he added, glancing at Sextus. "I don't think Ethan can get free for a few weeks, but maybe after that..."

Jashana stared at him in dismay. "Seisyll, we're getting married in June, have you forgotten?"

"Not at all," Seisyll assured her. "But he'll have a few weeks before then during which he and Sextus can do some checking around to find out what's going on and if they can find out anything that might lead to a culprit. If the matter ends up needing more attention than that, then we'll consider longer term options after the wedding."

"Not _immediately_ after the wedding, I hope!" Jashana said testily.

"We might let Ethan deflower you first," Sextus joked. "But only if you beg nicely. Shouldn't take him _too_ long."

Seisyll glanced at his gaping wife, suppressed a grin, and raised a brow at his brother. "Sextus! Pretend you're housebroken."

#

****_April 28_

_ Forest glade just outside Tre-Arilan_

"Do be careful, Ethan!" Jashana turned concerned eyes up at her beloved. "I know you've been in dangerous situations before, but I just have a gut feeling this isn't going to be like one of your usual fact-finding missions Seisyll's sent you on in the past. If Javana's fears aren't exaggerated—and she's not usually the sort to overreact—then this is a different sort of situation you and Sextus will be walking into than what you're used to investigating." She held him close. "I just want you to come home to me quickly, safe and sound."

"I will, sweeting," her betrothed assured her, giving her a quick squeeze before disengaging himself to continue down the wooded path beside her. "It would take the entire Torenthi army to keep me from returning to you; I've been looking forward to our wedding for far too long already!" Ethan flashed her a winning grin. "We'll be our usual discreet selves, staying in the area just long enough to get a feel for what's happening, resolve it if we can, or report what we discover to the proper authorities if we can't. At any case, even if we don't turn up anything, at least we'll be able to tell your sister we looked into the matter next time we see her. The situation might not even be as dire as she thinks, if rumors have twisted the story enough in the retelling. It could well have been a couple of isolated incidents that have become blown all out of proportion by gossipmongers."

"Mayhap," Jashana said dubiously. "But mayhap not, and since you don't know what it is you're walking into, all I ask is that you'll be cautious."

"I shall." Ethan took off his cloak, spreading it under the large oak he had come to think of as 'their' tree. Jashana sank down onto it, Ethan following immediately afterwards, reaching for his intended wife eagerly. "Jesú, I've missed you! The end of June can't possibly come soon enough. Can't you persuade Seisyll to let me move the wedding date a little sooner?"

"I can't see how, if he's about to send you halfway across the Kingdom for the next few weeks," Jashana answered a bit gloomily.

Ethan pulled her close, kissing her to lighten her mood. "Well, maybe Sextus and I will find our answers sooner than that. _I'll_ certainly be motivated to discover what's going on as quickly as possible, if that means getting to come home to you in days rather than weeks."

"I wish I could go with you!" Jashana told him. "It's not as if Seisyll hasn't sent me on fact-finding missions before."

"Not this sort, love," Ethan said, shaking his head. "And anyway, you and your sister look enough alike, you're more likely to draw attention to us rather than blend in with the local population. We don't want to send the gossips in Caerdraig into a tizzy wondering who the lovely stranger is who looks so much like their baroness; _that_ would hardly be discreet, if we're trying to avoid having Walter notice we're looking into the matter!"

"I suppose you're right," Jashana said unhappily.

Ethan smoothed her hair away from her face, looking into her eyes. "I love you, Jashana Arilan. You know that, don't you?"

She gave him a slight smile. "You'd better!"

He leaned down to kiss her, his eyes darkening as she responded eagerly. After a moment, his kisses began to wander, skimming along her jawline to one ear, then down her neck. "If we can't do anything to move the wedding up," he whispered as he began loosening the lacings of her gown, "maybe we could just start the honeymoon a little earlier?"

Jashana forced down her feelings of foreboding, reaching up to entwine her fingers in her beloved's hair. "I love you, Ethan," she whispered back.

All thoughts of the Kheldish Riding were soon forgotten as the lovers became thoroughly lost in each other's arms.

#

_May 1_

_ Shrine to Saint Catulina, Stavenham_

Sir Ethan, taking a moment to recover his equilibrium after being brought through the Transfer Portal in Stavenham, took a curious look around at his new surroundings. "What is this place?" he asked Sextus.

Sextus risked a quick peek outside the entrance to the small grotto. "We're in a private shrine in a garden in Stavenham. The original owners of the property were killed back in the days of the Regents for helping Deryni escape the Kingdom, and their home was destroyed, but the Custodes Fidei allowed the shrine to remain, thinking it harmless. The current owners are human, but sympathetic to Deryni. They're aware we come and go through here at times, but they choose to look the other way."

Ethan peered closely at the statue of the young woman housed in the niche before him. "Is this a shrine to a Deryni saint?"

Sextus chuckled. "No, she was human. Saint Catulina, the patron saint of virtuous maidens. Come on, it looks like there's no one in sight."

Ethan suppressed a laugh. "You brought us to a shrine for a protectress of maidenly virtue? Jesú, Sextus, no wonder it took us a couple of tries to get in!"

The younger knight grinned.

#

_ May 10_

_ The Dragon Inn, Village of Caerdraig, Kheldish Riding_

"Does the sun come out at night here in Caerdraig, or is that just your beautiful smile?" Sextus asked the pretty barmaid who was topping off his ale tankard.

She giggled. "Does that line usually work for you?"

The youngest Arilan shrugged. "I don't know yet. You're the first woman I've tried it on. _Does_ it work for me?" He shot her his most charming grin. Ethan choked back a laugh, taking a deep quaff of his own ale instead to hide his amusement.

The woman laughed. "Well, you're a right charmer, you are, and easy on the eyes, but I don't walk out with anyone I don't know anymore. It just ain't safe these days."

"Oh?" Sextus feigned casualness. "How so?"

The barmaid looked at him speculatively. "You and your friend ain't from around here, are you?"

"No, just passing through on the way to Stavenham. Unless there's work to be had here in Caerdraig?" Sextus said, sounding hopeful.

"Nay, not really, not unless you're a miner or looking to learn the trade."

"Ah. Mining country, is it? I suppose that's no great surprise, with all these mountains." Sextus took a sip of his ale. "So, why is it that it's not safe to go walking out of an evening these days? Or is it just me you're wary of?" He winked at the young woman, reaching for her hand and stroking it gently with his thumb.

She blushed, giggling slightly, though she didn't pull her hand away. "Oh, that too!" she teased him, but sobered quickly as she considered his question. "No offense, goodman, I'm sure you're a right sort, but it's just that there's been several women in the past few years as either have come up missing, or else had things happen that they can't explain afterward, so we've learned to be wary, especially of folks we don't know. And just less than a year ago, there was a woman's body found up in the forest, though no one knows to this day who she was."

"Hm, that _is_ strange. I can see why a lass might be wary."

"Well, it ain't just the lasses, but mostly so. Three years ago there was a courting couple out walking of an evening about two miles north of here. They went missing; a couple of weeks later, the man's body was found in a ravine with his neck broke, but the woman's never turned up. Some think maybe the man fell off the mountain road in the dark—he was found just a bit below that—and that maybe the woman fell too, but just wasn't found, or maybe she got scared she might be blamed for it and run off, but either way, she ain't turned up since. And there was a feeble-minded boy who went missing earlier this year. But aye, mostly it's been women strange things have been happening to." She lowered her voice. "My friend Meg, two weeks ago, woke up one morning still wearing her clothes from the night before, only they was stained and torn, and she can't remember why. She said she felt right as rain the night before, but doesn't remember exactly how she got home that night even though she'd not been drinking, or even much of what happened after suppertime, and she woke up all achy and with her feet bruised and bloody as if she'd walked a ways without shoes on."

"Very strange!" Sextus frowned over his ale. "And were her shoes missing?"

The barmaid nodded. "Yes, and they were new ones too. Cost a week's wages, those did! Meg was most put out. She thought maybe someone robbed her for them, but that seems a bit odd, doesn't it? Especially as you'd think she'd remember, were that the case!"

"So you'd think," he agreed. "Though sometimes if there's a blow to the head, a person can forget a few things. Do you know if maybe she had a fall or a knock on her head that might have caused her to lose her memory of what happened?"

The woman shrugged. "She says she can't remember anything of that sort, but then again, she said she was achy all over, so it's hard to say. I suppose that's possible."  
The innkeeper called something from a rear room, and the barmaid, giving Sextus an apologetic smile, withdrew her hand from his and went back to see what her employer wanted. Sextus returned to Ethan's table.

"Any luck?" Ethan asked.

"Not as much as I'd hoped for, but yes, some useful information." He shared what he'd learned with Ethan.

"Hm. Sounds like maybe we should see if we can make the acquaintance of her friend Meg," Ethan observed.

"That's what I thought too," Sextus agreed. "She may have simply had some sort of head injury, but if her memories have been tampered with, maybe I'd be able to tell."

Ethan raised an eyebrow at his brother-in-law to be. "That's going to take some doing, though. Are you planning to ask for permission to take a peek into her mind? I know there's beginning to be more acceptance of Deryni in the Kingdom, but that might not reach as far as every rustic maid in the back regions of the realm, you realize. Old ways of thinking die hard."

"You're right," Sextus said, "which is why I was hardly planning to ask. We might be able to learn what we need to know by simply asking Meg the right questions, but if it comes to needing more information, there are ways to take a peek at her memories without her being any the wiser." The Deryni fact-finder gave him a wry grin. "I don't like doing so; in most situations it's probably unethical as hell, but in this particular instance having that information could end up saving lives, so I'm not going to be too conscience-plagued over it if it comes down to that. Will it bother _you_, though?"

Ethan shrugged. "Not my problem, brother; I'm not the Deryni here, and as you say, it could save lives, so I've little quarrel with that. It's not like you're using your powers to seduce virgins or swindle the poor out of their hard-gotten gains. Finding out how to contact Meg will be another problem, though. You don't suppose our barmaid will volunteer that information when she comes back out here, do you?"

Sextus grinned, sharing his memories of reaching for the woman's hand and doing a quick probing quest of her memories as she spoke to him. "Oh, she already has."

#

_ May 15_

_ Peasant's cottage, Caerdraig Village outskirts_

Sextus frowned as he rejoined Ethan outside Meg of Caerdraig's cottage.

"Well?" Ethan asked once both men had walked out of earshot of the peasant woman's home. "Were you able to tell what had happened?"

"Not exactly," Sextus said, "but I'm looking forward to seeing what Seisyll and Denis will have to say about it. She's been tampered with, all right, and I suspect in more than one way, and perhaps on more than one occasion, but her memories have been altered to the point that I can't tell anything about who might have done it, except that he was almost certainly Deryni. And what I don't understand is why he would have left as much of her memories intact as he did. I don't think it was lack of skill on his part; he seems to have deliberately left her enough memories so that she'd know that someone has done something to her, even though one would think it would be more advantageous to simply erase her memories of those lost nights altogether and replace them with false ones. I think whoever did this wanted her to remember just enough to torment her." Sextus shook his head. "I tried to ease that fear a bit, but I didn't dare alter her memories too much further than that. It's probably best for her own safety if she retains a bit of wariness."

"You said he's been inside her head more than once?" Ethan looked startled.

Sextus scowled. "More than just inside her head, unfortunately. As best as I could piece together, someone's been poking about in her mind on at least three separate occasions, and she'll soon realize she was raped at least one of those times, which is doubtless what the memory alterations were meant to cover up. She's with child, though, or at least I think I felt the early signs of one."

Ethan bit back a curse. "How far along?"

"How the hell would I know? I'm no midwife!" Sextus pondered the question. "I couldn't sense if the child was a boy or a girl, but I don't know if that means it's too early to tell yet—in which case she'd only be a few days along—or if it just means I've got no experience at sexing unborn babies and little business trying my hand at it. That sort of thing is what Deryni women figure out by instinct, after all; we men just have to guess at it."

"Did you tell her?"

A shadow crossed Sextus's features. "No. As I said, she'll figure it out soon enough, if she hasn't already. And once I realized whoever is doing this to her has visited her more than once, I had to erase any memories of my visit as well." He turned haunted eyes to his sister's betrothed. "Unless we manage to catch and stop this man before he visits her again, I couldn't risk him finding out we're on his trail, after all."

"Won't he be able to detect you've been in her mind, though, the way you were able to detect he'd been there?"

Sextus sighed. "Oh, he might, though I did my best to cover my tracks. But if I did the job right, at least he'll have no more idea who I am than we have about who _he_ is." He turned a grim look at Ethan. "I'm beginning to think we need to call in more help with this assignment."

#

_ May 15_

_ Tre-Arilan_

Jashana counted the days again, her heart filled with mingled joy and trepidation. No, she hadn't miscounted. Her monthlies should have started a few days earlier, but so far there was no sign of her flow starting.

The most likely reason for this was, obviously, a pregnancy, and that was the reason for her conflicting emotions. She wanted this baby, of course; wanted any number of children that she and Ethan might be blessed with in their years together. But at the same time, she'd not looked to start a family so soon. Certainly not just over a month before her wedding day!

The timing, she knew, would be hard to explain to her family, but with any luck, by the time any of them figured out she was expecting a child, she would already be married. Seisyll was quite astute; there was a chance he might figure things out sooner, but with the wedding plans already underway, surely he'd do little more than grumble about the timing.

Jashana closed her eyes, focused on trying to sense the presence of another life deep within her. After a while, she thought she might have brushed against something, but she wasn't sure. It was, however, still quite early, if her flow was only a few days late. And, of course, there might be some other cause for the delay. She would try again in a couple more days. How long had her mother said it had taken to be sure of her own pregnancies? Was it a week? Ten days? Jashana wished wistfully that she could ask, though under the circumstances, Lady Alix would have been mortified to think of her daughter catching with child before a proper exchange of wedding vows. Sophie would doubtless be equally upset, not to mention worried about what Seisyll might say or do, especially given his reaction to finding Javana with Sir Stefan a few years earlier, and to the best of Jashana's knowledge, at least _they'd_ stopped short of a full consummation. No, Jashana would hold off asking. She'd doubtless be quite sure both about whether she was pregnant and what sex the child would be by the time Ethan returned for the wedding. She'd tell _him_, if by that time there was any news to tell, and together they could decide on when to break the news to the rest of the family.

She hoped, if this was a child growing within her, that she would bear a son, and that he'd have Ethan's charming smile.

#

_ June 5_

_ The Red Wyvern, Caerdraig Village_

Sir Ethan of Mainwaring smiled at his lapful of curvy village wench. "I'm afraid I can't, lass. I'm betrothed and looking to wed in the next month."

The blonde walked her fingers down his chest. "I'll no' tell 'er," she purred.

The knight grinned. "Oh, I'm sure of that, sweeting. But_ I'd_ know." He gently pushed her off his lap, tilting his head towards Sextus. "Try that one; he's easier."

"Don' wanna," she answered with a pout, her voice slurred with drink. "My man's a black-haired lout. Don' wan' anuver man wif black hair."

"Your loss, sweeting," said Sextus equanimously, sipping at his stout. He shot Ethan a wry grin as the woman stumbled over to the next table to try her luck with the patrons there. "A regular saint now, are you, now that you're leg-shackled? Or are you just on your best behavior because you're sharing a pint or three with your future brother?"

Ethan chuckled. "Well, that too, but honestly, Sextus, you've seen your sister, right? Forget for a moment that you're Jashana's brother; does that blonde slattern even begin to compare?"

"Depends on how drunk you are, I suppose," Sextus joked. "Too bad for her you're stone cold sober."

Ethan polished off the final bites of his meat pie, chewing slowly before looking back up at Sextus. "You're not exactly the hopeless reprobate Seisyll painted you to be, either, are you? I was expecting I'd be touring the Kheldish Riding with the devil incarnate, to hear _him_ talk. Not that you're anywhere near sainthood either, but why do you work so hard to maintain the bad boy guise?"

Sextus raised his eyebrows as he picked at the crust of his meat-filled pastry. "Who says it's a guise?"

Ethan snorted. "Well, we've been traveling together going on a month now, and while I've seen you down a drink or two at every tavern and inn along the way, I've yet to see you truly in your cups. Not to mention that, given your reputation for wenching, I'd expected to see you visiting every bath-house and dragging up every doxy along the way, but so far you've only gone off with, what, two lasses? And rather wholesome looking ones at that. Did they do anything more than hold your hand?"

Sextus laughed. "None of your damn business! Just don't go ruining my reputation with Seisyll and Denis. I'd hate for them to develop high expectations for me; it's hard enough living up to their low ones."

"Well, it's _your_ game, Sextus; I'm just an amused spectator. I just wish I understood why. What do you stand to gain from having them think the worst of you?"

Sextus shrugged. "You've never had to grow up in their shadow, expected to live up to all their expectations of what an Arilan ought to be. By not even trying, I may disappoint, but then again, when I _do_ exert myself on occasion, they're pleasantly surprised." He took another sip of his stout. "Whereas if I knock myself out trying to live up to their standards all the time, after a while they'd start to expect that, in which case nothing short of perfection will do thenceforth to impress them. So why exert myself and still end up disappointing them, when I can go about doing that the easy way?"

Ethan grinned. "All right, that makes a sort of logic, I suppose, if rather an arse-backwards sort." He watched as the village wench who had draped herself over him earlier stumbled out the door with a dark-clothed man wearing a hood.

"Should we follow them," Ethan whispered, "just to make sure she's safe with him?"

Sextus snorted. "Define 'safe'. How would we know? She's drunk half out of her mind, so she's willing enough for a tumble at the moment; she might not be so willing once she sobers up tomorrow, but by then he'll be long gone, won't he?" He stared at the hearth fire a moment longer, then nodded. "I suppose we could at least make sure she gets no worse treatment than she was looking for. But Jesú, I feel like we're just chasing after shadows at this point. Maybe we should just go back to keeping a watch over Meg's cottage until someone comes sniffing around again?"

"You're assuming that Meg's being assaulted at home and not someplace else," Ethan said, equally gloomy. He stood. "Finish your pie. I'm done eating; I'll follow them out." He smiled wryly. "If I'm not back in half an hour, come after me."

Sextus gave him a tired smile. "Right. You're just hoping to catch an eyeful of wanton blonde giving that chap his money's worth."

"Yes, well, better that than the pox I was afraid she wanted to share with me." Ethan grinned, tossing a coin on the table for his half of the fare, and exited the tavern.

#

The woman was drunk, but not so far gone that her body couldn't register pain. Not that Aylmer particularly wished to hurt her—no, that was becoming Lord Walter's particular joy—but Aylmer couldn't help but feel a trifle sorry for the wench. Being drunk wouldn't spare her from Walter's excesses; if anything, Aylmer suspected he'd simply double his efforts just to ensure he left the woman something to remember their encounter by, even if he dared not leave her with her memories fully intact. So Aylmer was careful to use her gently, not that she'd remember the favor, but at least _he'd_ feel less guilty about his part in things.

Aylmer simply enjoyed women, willing or not. If certain powers could be brought to bear to make them more willing, or at least more compliant, who was he to argue against their use? Life, after all, was all about power and control, and in _that_ game at least, it was certainly better to be on top. But he wasn't particularly enamored of pain, whether of receiving it or giving it. No, that was Walter's love, something he prided himself in being a connoisseur of, in the same way that he took pride in being a patron of the arts and a collector of beautiful things. Paintings, statuary, tapestries, the most skilled troubadours for his musician's gallery, and of course, women.

Walter's wife, of course, was the ultimate work of art in the baronial treasure trove of beautiful things. Baroness Javana de Branigan might have been forced to Walter's will, but some inner part of her remained as yet unbroken, uncowed, and Aylmer secretly rejoiced in that. Had Walter fully managed to break her, Aylmer suspected, Javana's beauty would somehow have become diminished, and once it was, her value to Walter would be gone. She, too, could go the way that many of Walter's other women already had, though granted, those others had always been destined to be disposed of.

Aylmer had been loyal to Walter in all things, at least up until now, but if he were ever forced to choose between his loyalty to Walter and his love for the beautiful Javana….

No, he must not allow himself to indulge such thoughts! Lord Walter had never, so much as Aylmer knew, been so discourteous as to peek into Aylmer's mind without his express consent, but Aylmer knew something of what the man was capable of in that regard, and he was not such a fool as to think the shields he had developed in his work with Walter over the years would be sufficient to keep Walter himself out.

No, Javana de Branigan was well out of his reach, but this woman, lying somewhat limply now yet still drunkenly willing beneath him, would suffice.

Aylmer felt another surge of pity for the woman. He could, perhaps, strangle her now, not enough to kill her, but enough to make her pass out. It would scarcely take any time at all; she was half unconscious with drink already. Walter might be angry, but Aylmer could claim an excess of passion had caused him to choke her. Walter would be less likely to cause undue harm to a woman who was unconscious and couldn't register it. With any luck, the woman would awaken later with enough alcohol remaining in her system still to numb her against whatever injuries Walter might choose to inflict upon her.

He closed strong fingers around the woman's throat.

#

Sir Ethan's grip tightened around his sword hilt as he watched the hooded man start to strangle the woman he was using. With a fierce cry he leapt out of the shadows, drawing sword from scabbard as he did so, raising it to strike a blow against the woman's assailant, swiftly gauging as he did so how he must swing the weapon in order to strike down the man without harming the woman herself.

In his efforts to concentrate on the task before him, Ethan did not see the other dark-clad man approach him from behind until it was too late. Something hard clubbed him, and as he fought to remain conscious, another blow brought him to his knees. His last thoughts were of his beautiful Jashana, her blue-violet eyes glowing with love for him, as his mind went black and then, at the final second, a tunnel of light opened up before him, drawing him out of one existence and into the next.

#

Lord Walter turned the man's body over with his booted foot, staring at his features. He looked somehow familiar, though it took Walter a few moments to place where he'd seen the man before.

Eventually, the memory resurfaced. Shave off the month's growth of beard and replace his rustic clothing with finer garments, and this man was almost certainly Sir Ethan, Javana's future brother-in-law.

Well, at this point, future brother-in-law no longer. Fortunate, that. One less Arilan family gathering he'd have to make excuses not to travel across the Kingdom for.

He knelt, doing a Death-Reading on the man to see what he'd known, and who else might be working with him, but Sir Ethan had evidently been safeguarded against such efforts. Walter cursed violently as the knight's memories dissolved away far more quickly than would normally be the case, too quickly for Walter to be able to retrieve information of any use.

No matter. If Sir Ethan of Mainwaring was snooping around Caerdraig and rescuing damsels in distress, that could only mean that those interfering Arilans were suspicious of him. And if they were suspicious of him, Walter knew whose fault that had to be.

Javana would pay for this.

Walter stood, dusting off his trousers. "Leave the woman be, Aylmer," he muttered. "We can't afford the luxury right now." He walked over to the strangled woman, twisting her neck abruptly to finish the job as Aylmer stared in dismay. "Fasten your trousers, man, and let's be off!"

They left the scene, Walter only briefly considering hiding Sir Ethan's body, but deciding against it. No, if he were working with someone else, let that someone discover him; that would serve as a warning. And as for any investigation, Walter was a patient man. He would simply make sure there were no new occurrences to investigate. At least not for a long while. The Arilans might be patient as well, but they could hardly afford to linger in the Riding forever, and once he was certain they were gone, Walter could resume his nocturnal activities, just a bit more discreetly than before.

But Javana must be taught her lesson. Walter suspected he knew the most effective way to do that. He rued the necessity, but priorities were priorities.

Aylmer gave a lingering look back at the cooling bodies in his master's wake as the two men returned to the mountain path leading back up to the castle.


	11. Part Ten

** Part Ten—Loss**

_ June 6, 1127 _

_ Caerdraig Castle_

"I had to do something I didn't particularly like last night, darling, and I'm afraid it's your fault. I had to kill a man."

Javana de Branigan reeled inwardly with shock, though she remained outwardly composed. "Oh? And how is this one different from the other poor souls you've harmed or killed?" _I will show no emotion_, she told herself. _I will not reward him with my pain._

"Was that a rhetorical question, or do you truly wish to know? Very well, then, I'll show you." Grabbing his wife's arm, Walter used his psychic control to wrest down her shields, forcing his memories of the dying Sir Ethan into her mind. "Do you recognize him, my treasure?"

"N-no," Javana stammered, her composure cracking. The statement was true, but even as she spoke, a glimmer of recognition began to surface.

"No? Well, maybe _this _will remind you, then." Walter force-fed her a second memory, this time of Sir Ethan as Javana had first met him, dressed in a nobleman's garb, clean-shaven, and happily seated beside his adoring bride-to-be, Javana's sister.

"Oh, sweet Jesú…." Javana whispered, shock stripping away the last vestiges of her self-control. She started to tremble in reaction, her eyes filling with tears. "Walter, you bastard, why?"

"Why?" Walter yanked his wife's chin up, forcing her to look him in the eye. "You tell _me_, my deceptive little witch! What was he doing in Caerdraig, or anywhere near the Kheldish Riding? Answer me!"

"I—" She'd started to answer 'I don't know,' but she _did_ know, she realized after a moment, so she cut her answer short, not wishing to verify Walter's suspicious of her by being caught in an outright lie. Instead, she simply shook her head. "I never asked him to come here." That, at least, was the truth, technically speaking, though Walter was bound to suspect the lie of omission behind it.

"Well, it's a damned shame he happened to just drop by the neighborhood then!" her husband said with a sneer. "Hopefully he didn't have any traveling companions. They might find this part of the Kingdom equally inhospitable, the poor souls." He tilted his head at Javana curiously. "Will your sister be very bereaved, do you think? Or will she better off without him? Maybe Sir Ethan was just a philandering git like your former lover Stefan. He _was_ found beside a dead whore, you know."

Javana dropped her eyes, shielding her emotions from her husband once more. "Yours, belike," she said, her voice cold.

"Sadly, no, there wasn't time. Speaking of cold women, though, I don't suppose you're infertile this week?"

"If you don't know my cycles by now, I'm certainly not going to apprise you of them."

Walter counted days back in his mind. "Pity. Ah well, there are always other options. By the way, dearest, you could well be a mother by February next."

Javana stared at him, confused. "Since I'm not with child by you, I can't possibly see how! Wouldn't I have to have caught with child last month for that to happen?"

"Oh, you did!" Walter gave you a feral smile. "Or rather, _someone_ did, and as she's bearing my child, I figure he'll make as good an heir as any other. So congratulations, madam, and enjoy your last weeks of freedom. I believe you'll be having complications in short order, and shall have to be confined to your chambers for the duration of your term. _With_ your new midwife, of course."

Javana continued to look baffled. "But...why?"

"Why what? Don't tell me you're heartbroken you won't be bearing my sons yourself."

She gave an incredulous bark of laughter. "Of course not! But...why are you fathering them on someone else? There has to be some motive in that for you."

"Indeed!" Walter smiled. "While she grows fat with my pups, you, my darling, will remain perfect. I'd hate to see you ruined, dear. You _do_ wish to remain fit for my collection, I hope? _You_ know what happens to my old acquisitions once I tire of them. Oh, and speaking of tiresome things, the next time you try to betray me, my lovely, you'll lose far more than just a prospective brother-in-law. That grieving sister of yours comes to mind; she might welcome the chance of a reunion with her beloved, after all."

He left the room, leaving her staring after him in dismay.

#

_ June 7_

_ The Kheldish Riding_

Sextus Arilan was on a mission—to get bleeding blind drunk by the end of the evening.

He had found Sir Ethan's body within mere minutes of his death, the corpse still somewhat warm despite the growing coolness of the night air. He knew his friend's murderer must still be close by, saw two sets of footprints leaving the scene which had undoubtedly belonged to the killer and an accomplice, yet within only a short while after attempting to track them, he lost the trail when the soft mud of the footpath they had taken turned to stonier ground too hard to leave a track easily followed by the silvery moonlight Sextus was forced to resort to for illumination. He hardly dared to light handfire to see their trail more quickly; without a partner to cover his back, that would be like lighting a signal fire saying "Here I am; kill me too!" So he'd returned to Caerdraig Village, raising the hue and cry in hopes that a group of village men pursuing the killers might have more luck where he, singly, had not, and that at the very least a decent burial could be arranged for the victims slain near the roadside. He hadn't the resources to have Sir Ethan's body returned to his family crypt at Mainwaring just yet, but at least he could mark the spot where the village men had buried him that following morning, and had made arrangements with the locals to allow for him to be exhumed once a means was found to bring him back home to his loved ones.

But now that left Sextus with the painful task of returning home to tell his family what had befallen Ethan. To tell Jashana what had happened, and to hand Seisyll the awful task of notifying Ethan's family. Not for the first time, Sextus was glad he wasn't the senior male of the Arilan household.

Then again, if he had been, Seisyll might have been the one sitting here in this tavern just now, drinking himself into a mild stupor, waiting for the dead of night when all the townsfolk of Stavenham were likely to be abed, so he could slip into the garden grotto with its shrine to Saint Catulina and the barely functional Transfer Portal there without anyone noticing. Denis had used it on rare occasion before, had shown it to Seisyll and Sextus once a few years earlier, when they'd first started needing faster means of traveling across the Kingdom on fact-finding missions for the young King, but unlike the private Portals belonging to other secret Deryni known to their family, the one at Stavenham was less regularly used, and therefore it had become unreliable. There had been a few heart-stopping moments when he and Ethan had come through it the previous month, not only due to their natural fear of discovery but also because, on their first attempt to access it, they had simply disappeared into blackness for a few moments before finding themselves still in Tre-Arilan's ritual chamber. But Sextus, after a quick mental sharing with Seisyll to figure out where he might have gone wrong, had ventured it once more, and the second time the men had gotten through without further mishap.

He hoped their recent use of the Portal had re-energized it, making it more functional this time. He did not fancy a nearly two week ride back to Tre-Arilan under these circumstances, especially as his remaining resources did not allow for both the purchase of a horse and the luxury of eating and sleeping indoors during the long journey back. The few belongings Ethan had carried on his person had been returned to him by the villagers of Caerdraig, and that had included his money pouch (clear enough evidence that Ethan had not simply been beset by robbers), but even so, the two men had been planning on starting their trip back home in just a week's time, returning the same way they'd come to avoid any delay in Ethan's wedding plans, so a horse had hardly been in the budget for that journey.

Sextus downed the rest of the stout in his tankard and ordered another.

#

_ June 8, pre-dawn_

_ Tre-Arilan_

"He hadn't been dead for long when I found him, but his memories were already too fragmentary to retrieve anything useful. I tried anyway, but I couldn't find anything to indicate who killed him. It might have been the culprit we were sent to find, or it could have been a totally random incident." Sextus looked shaken as he faced his older brother. "I rather doubt it, especially since nothing of value was taken from him to indicate it might have been a simple robbery, but then again, there's no proof one way or the other. It could just be that his killers heard me coming and abandoned the scene before they had a chance to steal anything."

Seisyll absorbed the information, looking grim. "It could be. Though if they killed one man, you'd think they'd think nothing about lying in wait for another, if they were naught but common brigands, especially since they had the advantage of numbers. My guess is that they left because they didn't wish to risk discovery. And if two men feared discovery by a single opponent encountering them in the dark, they might have had some suspicion of what you're capable of." He poured some Ballymar whisky for both himself and his brother, handing the second glass to Sextus. "But then again, how would they have known?" He sighed. "Damn it, I wish we had more answers."

"I'll go back, Seisyll. I'll find those answers, even if it kills me."

The head of the Arilan household shook his head. "Which it quite likely would, if I send you back without backup. Or even with it. No, we're lost the advantage of secrecy, I fear. At any rate, I'm not willing to take the risk, at least not right now." Seisyll nursed his whisky for a few moments, staring into the fire. "Have you told Jashana yet?" he asked.

"Not yet. I wanted to report what happened straight to you first."

Seisyll rubbed his eyes. "All right. She was planning on spending the day in Rhemuth with Sophie, leaving right after breakfast this morning to visit Sophie's former household sister, Lady Ailidh. The news can wait until they return. In the meantime, Sir Ethan's family will need to be notified, and I'll need to inform Kelson as well."

"I've made arrangements with the villagers of Caerdraig to allow Ethan to be disinterred and relocated if that's what his family desires."

Seisyll nodded. "Good thinking." He stared at the fire a bit longer, then stood, moving to his writing desk. "I should probably notify Denis as well. He's expecting to officiate at a wedding at the end of the month, and he needs to know it's likely to be a funeral instead."

#

_ June 9_

_ Tre-Arilan _

Jashana was numb. Seisyll had told her the awful news a few hours before, once she and Sophie had returned from their overnight stay in Rhemuth, but it had taken a while for the words to sink in, and even now, Jashana was in too much shock to make much sense of them. She understood that Ethan was dead, had been killed in some sort of ambush, but at the moment those words had little meaning yet. They were just words, random collections of sounds that Seisyll had quietly uttered earlier in the day, and Jashana had listened in a daze, nodding at the right moments to indicate that she understood, but deep down, it had not fully registered. Not yet.

Sextus, his gaze not quite able to meet hers, had handed her a glass of something to drink, and she'd taken it, but it was tasteless, unable to permeate the fog that had closed in over her mind. Sophie had whispered things to her then, things Jashana had also nodded at, though she had ceased to hear by that point, wanting nothing more than to be left alone. Alone where she could think, where finally all their words might have meaning.

Jashana was alone now, gazing out the window of the family solar, towards the fields, beyond the planted lands to the wooded copse beyond where she had been with her beloved on their last day together, where she had lain in his arms. She sat in the window seat, reaching absently for the sewing basket containing her latest project—the veil she was trimming with seed pearls to wear with her wedding gown.

From down the corridor, she heard a quiet cry. Stefania, her infant wail swiftly silenced as Sophie put her to the breast.

There was something she'd meant to tell Ethan, if only he'd come home.

The words finally permeated the hard protective shell around Jashana's heart, and she sobbed, her anguish finally felt. And at that moment, a second pain pierced her, lower than her heart, and a spreading warmth warned her of a second loss.

#

"Oh, Jesú!" Sophie, hearing her sister-in-law's cry, dashed into the solar only to find Jashana bent over in the window embrasure, a bloody show beginning to stain her skirts. "Your courses have started off strong?"

Jashana shook her head, bloodless lips tight with pain. "I think you'd best fetch the midwife."

Sophie's eyes widened. She helped her sister-in-law into her chamber, then sent orders for one of the maidservants to fetch the midwife. That done, she called for the steward, asking him to fetch the Laird of the manor as quickly as possible.

#

_ June 10_

_ Tre-Arilan_

Denis Arilan sat at his niece's bedside, for once not wearing the garments of his office, for he was here in his role as uncle, not bishop. He held Jashana's hand, her fingertips cool in his, a bit too cold for his liking.

She awakened, turning slightly towards him as her eyes opened. Seeing who it was that held her hand in his, she turned her eyes upwards, staring blankly at the canopy above before allowing her eyelids to drift shut again.

"How are you feeling, sweeting?" Denis asked, his voice breaking slightly. He coughed once to clear his throat, then tried again. "You should drink something. The midwife says you need to take in liquids to regain your strength."

Jashana reopened her eyes at that. "Seisyll told you, then." It wasn't really a question.

"I came as soon as I heard the news of Ethan's death, thinking you might have need of me here," Denis said, looking uncomfortable. "But yes, I know about the miscarriage. The midwife was still tending to you when I arrived; Seisyll could hardly avoid telling me _something_."

"Are you very upset with me?" the niece whispered.

"Because you lost your baby?" Denis sounded a bit shocked, much to Jashana's surprise. "I hardly think you meant to do so!"

"No, because I had a baby to lose!" Jashana opened her eyes again, starting up at her uncle, disconcerted. "That doesn't matter to you?"

Denis gave his niece a sad smile, turning her hand palm up and resting it on his cheek. "Oh, it does, sweeting. But at the moment that's one of my lesser concerns." He sighed. "I arrived knowing about Ethan's loss only to discover the household in an uproar, thinking we were about to lose you as well. That tends to put matters in a bit of perspective, even for a stiff-necked man of the cloth." He poured a beverage for her, leaning over her to help her sit up slightly, his other hand holding the goblet to her lips. "Here, please drink something."

"What is it?" Jashana asked, trying to peer down her nose at the goblet he held.

"Small beer, to get your strength back up."

She took a few sips before grimacing and pushing the goblet away. Denis placed it back on the table, lowering his niece back onto her pillow.

"I'll let you rest."

Jashana's tears, dammed until now, began to well up. "Please don't go yet."

"I won't. I'll still be here when you wake. But sleep now." He brushed gentle fingers over her brow, turning request into unspoken command. Jashana, unresisting, allowed him to work the sleep spell, falling into dreamless slumber.

Denis, once she was sound asleep, lay his head against her bedside and silently wept.

#

When Jashana awoke, Seisyll sat beside her. She looked around the room. "Uncle Denis?"

"He's gone downstairs to have supper with the others, but he'll be back directly." Her eldest brother studied the woman lying before him. "How are you feeling?"

Jashana pondered the question a long moment. "Empty." It was true in more than one way. Not only did her Deryni senses inform her that her womb was now devoid of life, she felt also as if some part of her soul had been ripped away with Ethan's death, and now that other loss had stolen away what had remained. She merely existed now, her life ripped away.

"Jesú, I'm sorry!" Seisyll's grip tightened on her hand. "I knew in the back of my mind that Ethan's mission was potentially dangerous, but I honestly never thought he'd not come back from it."

"I know," she said dully. "It could have been Sextus just as easily."

Seisyll paled slightly. "Yes, it could have."

Jashana turned away from him, stared into her fireplace for a long time. At last she said, "I can't do it again, Seisyll."

"Do what again, sweeting?"

She swallowed, a tear trickling down her cheek. "I know you want to see me safely wed, but I don't think I can endure a third betrothal. Not after losing two men already, certainly not now that I know what it means to love someone." Jashana turned to look up at her brother. "I couldn't go through it again. Please don't make me."

Seisyll closed his eyes, thinking of how starry-eyed Jashana had been over her betrothal to Sir Ethan, and before that, how content she'd been in her betrothal to Sir Ronan, even though that had been too brief to have had time to turn into a love match. Thinking also of how the stellar match he thought he'd found for Javana had, so far as he could tell from her drawn look and subdued behavior the last time he'd seen her, turned into a dismal failure. He felt now like he'd failed both sisters in his attempts to see them secure and happy. "I won't. I promise, Jashana. If you should choose another betrothal someday, the choice shall be your own." His gaze met his sister's, his eyes miserable. "I only wished to see you securely settled."

#

_ August 10_

_ Rhemuth_

"And how is your sister Lady Jashana faring?" The King's gray eyes held warm sympathy for Seisyll's grieving sister.

"As well as can be expected, my Prince," Seisyll replied. "She's past the worst of her despondency, and beginning to take a more active role in manorial affairs again, but as you might imagine, she's still rather subdued."

Kelson nodded. "As I recall, she and Sir Ethan had a love match, did they not?"

More so than even Seisyll had realized. "Yes, Sire," he answered.

The King, of course, knew nothing of Jashana's lost child, that being an intensely private matter, not to mention a scandalous one were it to become known outside of the immediate family. But her lengthier than usual absence from the Court at Rhemuth had been noted. Seisyll knew, however, that what troubled Kelson more was the loss of Sir Ethan, not to mention the circumstances that had caused it. Seisyll had given his King a report shortly after Sextus's return from the Kheldish Riding about the series of mysterious rapes, disappearances, and murders there, and after a month to recover from Ethan's loss, Sextus had returned to the area (though not to Caerdraig Village itself) with a few other fact-finders hand-picked by Kelson himself, only to discover that the Riding had grown unexpectedly peaceful in Sextus's absence. He was still there, along with the others, but now Kelson and Seisyll were in private conference to decide whether they should remain longer or be recalled to Rhemuth.

"I can spare them a short time longer," Kelson told Seisyll, "but I can't spare them indefinitely. It could well be that the culprit has already been brought to justice. As it's a local matter, Baron Walter would hardly have felt the need to report every incident of high justice and execution to me. Or perhaps nearly being caught at their game might have caused the perpetrators to stop their activities."

"If it's the latter, they'll only resume them once they feel safe again, you know," Seisyll reminded the King.  
"I know. But for now, with nothing more happening, there's nothing for you to investigate. If they start back up again later...well, you know, that's really more a matter for Baron Walter to handle. I'll have a word with him about it."

Seisyll looked uncomfortable. "Sire, I suspect my sister Javana only brought it up in private because, for whatever reason, she felt it best not to ask us to look into the matter with Walter knowing about our involvement."

Kelson snorted, raising his wineglass to his lips. "There's little wonder in that, Seisyll. It's hardly any credit to Lord Walter that such activities were going on in his demesne and he and his men were unable to put an end to it on their own. He'd hardly wish _that_ to get around!" He sighed. "I'll have a word with him nonetheless. If the trouble starts up again, he may need more resources to sniff out the troublemakers and bring them to justice. I don't need my barons being too stiff-necked with pride to seek outside assistance if it's truly necessary."

Seisyll sighed. "So, if nothing new surfaces, how soon do you want me to recall Sextus and the others and close the investigation?"

Kelson took another sip of his port. "If nothing new surfaces?" He stared out his window in the general direction of the Kheldish Riding. "The end of this month. I have other work for the men to do, and I need your brother's keen mind here, not mouldering out in the middle of nowhere with nothing to do but chase down trails long grown cold, doubtless wenching and overindulging in Kheldish ale." He sighed. "In a way, I hope something new _does_ surface. I'd hate to think Sir Ethan died in vain, and I'd love for us to have better closure to this investigation, not to mention the assurance that no other folk of the Riding will come to harm at the hands of the miscreants. But at this point, I rather doubt that anything new will surface."


	12. Part Eleven

** Part Eleven—An Heir is Born**

_ February 6, 1130—Jamyl Arilan's Christening Celebration_

_ Tre-Arilan_

"Javana!" Sophie smiled warmly as her sister-in-law entered the Great Hall, giving her a quick hug before turning to curtsey towards Javana's husband. "Baron Walter." She was still smiling as she greeted him, though perhaps not quite as cordially, for something about her brother-by-marriage unnerved her. She couldn't say what it was exactly; perhaps it was simply the icy coolness in his own eyes that never seemed to thaw, even when he was on his most charming and attentive behavior.

"Congratulations on the birth of an heir," Walter told Sophie with a courtly bow of his own. "And I trust that your firstborn is thriving as well? What was the little poppet's name again? Stefania, was it not?"

Sophie warmed towards the man slightly. Perhaps she was simply misjudging him; after all, she saw him too infrequently to know him very well, and he could hardly help the icy color of his eyes, could he? Mayhap, like many a husband, he was merely unaware of how his wife's long absences from the family fold and all too infrequent correspondence was affecting her family. Javana's letters seemed to bring up more questions than they answered, and rarely arrived more than once or twice a year. It would be unrealistic to expect frequent communication between households spaced the entire Kingdom apart, she mused, but surely at least one news-filled missive every couple of months would have been manageable? Lord Walter must certainly be sending regular correspondence to King Kelson, after all; how difficult would it be to slip an extra letter for his wife's family in the pack, especially since he certainly must know that Seisyll met with the King regularly and would surely receive the letter within the week?

Of course, the silence might well be Javana's choice, but again, somewhere deep in her gut, Sophie doubted that. Again, she had little notion why she would; after all, she'd not had a long time to get to know her husband's sister before her marriage to Walter and her subsequent move to Caerdraig. But she knew Seisyll was troubled by his sister's silence, and if he were troubled by it, it stood to reason that he had expected to hear from her more often himself.

But more telling than that gut intuition was the desperate hopelessness Sophie saw in Javana's eyes. There had to be some cause for that, something she didn't feel free to share even with her own family. She wished she knew what she might do to help.

Javana looked down at Sophie's sleeping newborn, reaching down to stroke a wisp of silky black hair at Jamyl's crown. It struck Sophie suddenly that Javana had been wed for nearly four years now, and to her knowledge her sister-by-marriage had never conceived.

"He's lovely," Javana told her. "I think he looks a little bit like Sextus, though granted, I can't really recall what Sextus looked like at that age."

Perhaps Javana was barren. Maybe that explained the sadness in her eyes and her reluctance to return to Tre-Arilan, or even Rhemuth, more frequently for family gatherings. Maybe the silence between infrequent letters was Javana's idea after all.

Sophie gave her sister-in-law a smile of thanks, slightly tinged with sadness.

#

Javana nodded and smiled at the appropriate moments in her conversations with her family, but at all times she was acutely conscious of Walter hovering just behind her, playing the doting husband.

She kept herself tightly shielded as a result, not daring to let anything slip for fear that, if her family guessed what sort of control Walter held over her, another member of the family would die. He had spent the journey to Tre-Arilan dreaming up dire fates for Jashana to ensure his wife's silence. Javana knew he was quite capable of carrying through with his threats, and of hiding any incriminating evidence so well that even Seisyll, despite the talents he had at his disposal, was unlikely to discover it. At least, not in time to spare Jashana from a horrific fate, which was Javana's chief concern for the moment. The time had long since passed since Javana hoped for justice; she would, at this point, settle for mere survival. Survival long enough, she hoped, to seek vengeance against Walter someday, though she could not fathom how such a thing might be possible anymore.

She was doomed to eternal Hell, she supposed, for wishing retribution upon her own husband, but she hardly feared that anymore. She was, after all, living in Hell already.

#

Lisette de Varnay took a step backwards, accidentally bumping into someone standing close behind her. "My apologies," she said, turning to look at the person she had inadvertently collided with, and was mildly startled to find herself face to face with Javana. It took a few moments for her to recognize her distant cousin. Outwardly, Javana hadn't changed all that much, but there was something about her that reminded Lisette of childhood stories about a mythic Ice Queen from the northern realms. It was a resemblance that chilled Lisette to the core, and she kept her shields rock solid to hide her startled reaction from her childhood friend.

She felt a tug at her skirts and looked down. "Mummy, where's the garderobe?" her son whispered.

Lisette favored Javana with a quick smile. "I'm sorry; Ranulf needs to make a trip to the necessarium, but we'll be back out in a bit. I hope we can have a chance to catch up!" She escorted her son out of the Hall more swiftly than was strictly required, uncertain why she felt so uneasy in Javana's presence. Or perhaps just in Walter's presence, though the two were so inseparable now, it was hard for her to imagine one separate from the other anymore. Lisette suppressed a shiver as she found the tiny closet down the corridor from the Great Hall and escorted her son inside.

#

She ought to speak to her sister, Jashana knew. Heaven knew Javana could not possibly have realized that her veiled hints at their last meeting would lead to a man's death, would leave her sister grief-stricken as well. Jashana's mind knew this, but her heart still felt cold towards her sister. She couldn't help how she felt, though she did her best to conceal her emotions under a brief smile of welcome and tight shields.

Sextus seemingly had no such reservations, however. Grabbing his eldest sister in a bear hug and whirling her around once before releasing her, he grinned down into Javana's startled face. "Greetings, stranger! About time you came home from that backwater barony you call home now." He reached out to clasp Walter's hand briefly. "You know, you _could_ bring your wife to Rhemuth more often. We'd get her back to you…eventually…."

Walter smiled. "Yes, that's what worries me. For some folk, 'eventually' means 'never.'" He grinned down at his baroness, one hand lightly resting upon each of her shoulders. "But we're here now, aren't we, darling?"

"We are," Javana affirmed, a smile on her face, but her voice cooler than Jashana had expected. She wondered what had prompted the glacial response. Surely not the thought of returning to her family home! Jashana suppressed a thoughtful frown as she watched her sister shrink almost imperceptibly from her husband's possessive touch. Despite her anger at Javana, Jashana found herself caring after all.

#

Sir Stefan de Varnay cast a quick glance around for his wife and heir, but they were nowhere to be found. In the garderobe again, he imagined. That was one of the hazards of traveling with a toddler and a newly-pregnant wife—one quickly learned the location of every garderobe and hedgerow for miles around. He cast out with his senses, trying to locate the pair among the gathering of Deryni and humans filling the Hall and nearby chambers of Tre-Arilan's manor house.

Ah, there! Lisette and little Ranulf were returning through a side entrance, Ran's sturdy little legs carrying him back to his father's side at a brisk run while his mother followed more sedately behind him. Bending, Stefan scooped up the boy with a grin. "Want to go see your new cousin?" he asked. "You'll have to be careful; he's very tiny and won't be able to play with you yet, but in a few months that will change."

"Steffie says baby Jamyl pees straight up," Ran informed his father solemnly, glancing at his slightly older cousin who had left her mother's side to join him.

Stefan fought hard to resist a laugh. "I imagine when he's on his back, he does," he affirmed, smiling at his niece. "Discovered that already, have you?"

Stefania Arilan nodded, her eyes sparkling with delight. "He soaked Uncle Sextus. Sextus said naughty words in front of me. Papa was mad."

Stefan's eyes filled with tears of suppressed mirth. "I imagine so!" He could hardly wait to hear Sextus's version of the tale later. Where _was_ the man? He cast another glance around the Hall. This time his gaze landed on his younger brother-in-law, who was caught up in conversation with an equally raven-haired woman. She turned slightly, allowing Stefan a glimpse of her profile.

Javana. Stefan's smile faded. He wondered if he ought to approach her, exchange polite greetings for courtesy's sake, but he hardly knew what to say to her, and Lisette had reached his side now, making any thought of approaching Javana awkward.

#

"Hopefully the next christening we're all gathered together for will be one in Caerdraig," Sextus teased Javana. She looked briefly surprised, then another expression—was it wariness?—flitted across her face before it returned to the slight smile she wore almost as a mask now.

"Hopefully," she told her brother. "I've had a bit of trouble catching with child, though," she added with a sidelong look at her husband, who nodded. Walter seemed surprisingly unperturbed by his wife's seeming inability to conceive, simply offering, "We thought we had an heir on the way twice, but alas, it turned out otherwise." He grinned. "But rest assured there'll be other attempts."

Sextus smiled down at his sister, but this time she did not smile back.

#

Javana spared a thought for poor Meg, a prisoner at Caerdraig Castle for nearly three years now, and the agonies she'd endured in her solitary labors with only Javana present to serve as midwife. The child had been born at long last, healthy and hale, and though it was still too early for Javana to tell for sure, she'd thought the baby might eventually prove to be Deryni like her father. But Walter had not wanted a girl-child—she was useless for his purposes—and so he'd disposed of her, barely waiting for Meg to finish the brief few weeks of postpartum bleeding before starting to try again. An heir was what was needed, they were told. So Walter turned his full attentions to his chattel, for which his wife was guiltily grateful, until Meg bred again—a boy this time. Walter had been jubilant over his birth, until he'd checked his newborn son for shields and, finding none, dashed the babe against the wall, ending his life before Javana could intercede and convince Walter that no child, even if full Deryni, would show definite signs of his heritage so early. And now Meg remained in the dungeon of Caerdraig, with Aylmer as jailer, breeding again.

Of all this, of course, the people of Caerdraig knew nothing, save for a small handful of loyal retainers like Sir Aylmer who had a vested interest in keeping their master's secrets. The folk of the barony had been told—and had seen nothing to convince them otherwise—that their Baroness was a reclusive sort, of an increasingly frail disposition, and that her lengthy confinements were necessary in order to secure an heir for Caerdraig someday. As for young Meg, she was little missed anymore, long since presumed dead after her disappearance years before. Her family occasionally made petitions to their baron to investigate the matter further, and he always sent them off with reassurances that he would continue to look into the matter. No one thought to search for her in the private chambers of Caerdraig Castle.

"The third time will be the charm, I'm certain," Walter assured Sextus.

Jesú, Javana hoped not! She hoped that Meg, if she caught with child again, might die in her labors next time, taking the child with her. The pain would be short lived; the escape from Walter's control eternal. Meg would be grateful for the mercies of death. Javana certainly would be, in her place, but alas, the controls on her mind would not allow her to seek that means of escape either.


	13. Part Twelve

** Chapter Twelve—A Tangled Web**

_July 15, 1130_

_ Caerdraig Castle_

Aylmer watched, his lips compressed tightly with anger, as Walter goaded his wife. He felt safe in his small show of emotion, hidden from his master as he was by the carved wooden screen between them. He could see them clearly enough through the small carved openings in the screen, for there was enough light in the solar for him to see them clearly, though here in the darker area of the chamber beyond, he was well enough hidden from their sight.

As usual, the baron's abuse of Javana was more emotional and mental than physical, at least in this part of the castle where others in the household might happen by and observe. After all, having waited so long to win his wife's hand in marriage, Walter hardly wanted to cause his hard-won prize serious injury. Still, it was becoming more difficult for Aylmer to hold his tongue and hide his feelings whenever Walter decided to amuse himself by tormenting Javana. _He_ would have made her a far better husband, he told himself, if only he'd had the chance to make her his own.

Perhaps he still might, someday.

He fingered the folded parchment in his pouch, considering the best opportunity he might have to show it to his Baroness. He hoped the knowledge it contained might win her favorable regard. If he held _that_, then perhaps he could persuade her to the plan that might spell freedom from Walter for them both someday.

Walter would likely be riding his borders in the morning; it was his custom to do so at least once per sevenday, but summer showers had kept him from doing so earlier in the week. Tomorrow promised to be bright and fair, though, if Aylmer had read the weather signs aright, so the Baron would doubtless wish to spend the morning out of doors.

Aylmer would plead illness and remain in the Castle instead.

#

Javana looked up from the hard cheese she was slicing, her fingers tightening their grip around her belt knife's handle as she saw Aylmer standing in the doorway to her bower. "What do you want?" Her eyes darted nervously out the window, down the mountain slope where she'd last seen Lord Walter riding off to check on his mines and the fields closer to the village below.

"My lady, I have acquired something that might be of special interest to you." Aylmer reached into his pouch, pulling out a folded parchment with a broken wax seal. He handed the missive to Javana, who took it with her free hand, her eyes never leaving Aylmer's face. "Read it," he urged.

Javana briefly continued to stare distrustfully at him, then pulled the knife free of the cheese, still holding it as she flipped the letter open to read the text enfolded within. A moment later, as she absorbed the message it contained, her knees suddenly gave way, and she sank onto a nearby bench, her eyes flitting back to Aylmer's face. "Where did you find this?" she asked hoarsely.

"It was in one of the coffers on Walter's desk," Aylmer said, a slight smile on his face. "I thought you might find it…informative. It seems your former suitor didn't mean to abandon you quite so completely after all."

Javana glanced back at the letter again, blinking back tears as she read Stefan's words to Seisyll—words which had never arrived at Tre-Arilan. If they had, how much different her life might have ended up! "Seisyll might have agreed to a long betrothal," she whispered. "_I_ would have…." The tears spilled over, and she looked back up at Aylmer angrily. "Why show me this now? Do you simply mean to torment me?" She held the letter out to him, knowing better than to keep it for fear it would be missed by her husband and he would discover she'd seen it.

"No!" Her husband's lieutenant took another step into the room, gently closing the door behind him and taking Stefan's letter back to tuck it safely away in his pouch. "No, my lady, never that. I just thought you deserved to know the extent to which Walter has altered your destiny to suit his own fancies. You deserve better than that, my lady; you always have. I would free you of him, if you'll allow me."

Javana stared at him, startled. "_You_ would? But…." She shook her head in disbelief, knowing there must be some trickery in Aylmer's offer. "What's in it for you?" she asked. "Walter has ever been your benefactor. You owe him your livelihood, and more besides…." Her voice trailed slightly as she considered the many things Walter and Aylmer had shared in their years of association, and she suppressed a shudder as she contemplated some of their more unsavory pastimes that she had learned about over her years of marriage to Aylmer's master.

"Aye, my lady, that's always been the problem with breaking free of Walter, hasn't it? He may not have controls set into my mind as he has in yours, but I've grown quite fond of eating and living indoors." Aylmer favored his baroness with an ironic smile. "Not to mention a few other…'benefits' of my position in his employ. But I would be willing to give up those benefits if only I could have two things in exchange."

Javana looked wary again. "And what two things might that be?"

His smile grew. "Walter would need to die. I trust you have no objection to that?"

"None," she affirmed. "And the other?"

Aylmer fell to one knee before her. "Your hand in marriage afterwards, my heart."

_Jesú!_ Javana stared at the man in shock. She was certain she'd never said or done anything to encourage the man's attentions. Did the idiot have a death wish? Or could he simply not resist the challenge of trying to win the one woman in the Kheldish Riding he knew Walter would never permit him to have?

"Why me?!" she asked him, morbidly fascinated.

The knight took a deep breath, evidently bracing himself for his outpouring of devotion. "Because ever since I first saw you, my lady, you have held my heart in your hand. I may have assisted in Lord Walter's courtship of you, believing you deserving of a better life than I could possibly offer, but I was vastly mistaken in that, I see that now. I…had hopes that Lord Walter would be a better husband to you than he turned out, given his deep desire to have you to wife. I would amend my wrongs in helping him secure you, if you would allow me to."

Javana regarded him curiously. She had been Truth-Reading as he spoke, and though she knew he could not possibly have been so blind to Walter's true character as to think her husband had ever meant to become a better man for her, evidently Aylmer had somehow managed to convince himself otherwise over the years, for his words to her had the feeling of truth to them. Or if not outright truth, at least not an outright lie either. Walter's hired lunatic truly baffled her.

"So…you believed that as soon as Walter wed me, he'd leave off his little pastimes of rape, murder, mental torment, and mucking about with people's memories to become a reformed man?" Javana allowed her skepticism to color her voice.

"Well…I suppose that would have been a bit much to hope for," Sir Aylmer allowed, "though I had truly believed he would treat _you_ better than he has."

_Ah, yes, that would redeem him utterly, wouldn't it?_ _And you as well?_ Javana barely suppressed an eyeroll. As much as she wished to be free of Walter, the thought of accepting Aylmer's odd proposal sickened her. Was she to be rid of one monster only to find herself shackled to another?

Granted, Aylmer, being human, would be far more malleable. He wouldn't be able to control her in the same ways that Walter had. If she were to go along with his plan, at least to a point, perhaps she could free herself from him later….

No. Javana shrank from that temptation. She could kill a man in self-defense, mayhap, but coldly premeditating his murder was something completely different. Walter had not brought her quite _that_ low yet, she hoped. _Jesú_, was she truly Denis Arilan's niece, to have been able to contemplate doing something so heinous, if only for an instant?

Still, she must find some tactful means to turn down Aylmer's proposal, for he had it in his power to make her life even more miserable than it was already.

"I'm very sorry, Sir Aylmer, but I'm afraid that your second condition would be quite impossible. I would dearly love to be free of Walter, of course, and if you desire the same thing, then I shall quite cheerfully look the other way while you rid us both of him. I wouldn't be able to assist you, obviously, or I'd have freed myself of the bastard years ago. But if I were to become a widow, I would lose all rights to Walter's baronial lands, you know, just as you would lose your own means of livelihood. Since I lack any other means of support, I would doubtless need to return to my brother Seisyll's guardianship. My small dower would hardly be enough to support the both of us."

Sir Aylmer took her hand, stroking it tenderly. "Ah, but my darling, I have a plan for that. If you were to bear Lord Walter a son, then he would inherit his father's lands, and you would almost certainly be made regent for him until he attains his majority. We could continue to live here at Caerdraig, you and I, just without Walter any longer. _I _would treat you kindly, my heart, far more kindly than Walter ever has."

Javana pulled her hand away, wondering idly if the controls Walter had set in her mind would permit her to stab her new suitor with the knife she belatedly realized she still held in her other hand. She forced back a shiver of revulsion, carefully keeping her expression neutral. "Walter keeps few secrets from you, Sir Aylmer. You must surely know that my husband takes great pains to avoid my bed during the time of month when he knows me to be fertile." Her voice hardened. "That's why he's keeping Meg," she added coldly.

"Yes, my dear, which is what gave me the idea," her husband's lieutenant said, his smile growing. "No one else besides us need know that Lord Walter's heir is not his. He'd be _ours_, darling. And once we're certain the babe is thriving, I would move against Lord Walter. Since you'd be with child already, Caerdraig would be securely in your keeping until our son comes into his inheritance, and as for afterwards, he'd surely not turn his own mother, the Dowager Baroness, out into the cold, would he?" Sir Aylmer grinned. "We could still live quite well, my love, if you would but agree to have me."

"And if I have a daughter, my lord?"

Aylmer shrugged. "A less ideal situation, granted, but Caerdraig can be inherited through the female line. It's Walter who insists upon a male heir. Either way, you'd still be regent, and I'd still have a position in the baronial household." He stroked her cheek. "Think on it, poppet. I'll be far more gentle with you than Walter is. I don't have his proclivity for pain."

Javana could practically feel her blood curdling in her veins.

#

_ August 1, afternoon_

_ Caerdraig Castle dungeon_

Meg of Caerdraig lay on her pallet in her dimly lit cell in the baron's dungeon. She had long since exhausted all efforts to escape her confinement. There was only one way out, Meg knew. Whenever she ended up with child, Baron Walter would bring her upstairs, up into the realm of light and fresh air, only to sequester her securely in the Baroness's bower. At least she had companionship then. She had hated the Baroness at first, believing her to be fully in league with Lord Walter, but after a time she had worked out that the lord of Caerdraig had some strange sort of control over his wife, and that she could not act to resist him, though she loathed him just as much as Meg did. Meg felt sorrier for the Baroness Javana than she did for herself at times. No matter what indignities Baron Walter had visited upon her, her mind and body were at least fully her own when he was absent. Years of careful observation had taught her what signs to look for to see if the Lady of Caerdraig were acting on her own accord or if she was acting under compulsion at any given moment.

A faint rapping at the cell door announced Baroness Javana's arrival. Meg sighed from relief, knowing it was the Baroness rather than the Baron because the Baron never heralded his entrance with a knock, preferring instead to catch his prisoner unawares. The door opened, admitted the Baroness carrying a tray of food.

The food was pre-cut in small morsels, meant to be eaten with her hands, for the Baron did not permit Meg to have any items in her cell which might be used as weapons. Knives had been forbidden from the start, of course, but once quite early on Sir Aylmer had made the mistake of allowing her to keep one of the metal spoons. This, Meg had rubbed against the stone walls of her cell until the edges of the bowl had been ground sharp. She had lurked in wait by the door one evening, waiting for the approach of an unannounced visitor, but when the door had finally opened and she'd sprung out of the shadows to attack, it had been Sir Aylmer who had entered first and took the wounding blow. Baron Walter, upon discovering the cause of the injury, had told Sir Aylmer that the wound had served him right for being so lax. But after that, he had grown even more restrictive about what Meg was permitted to keep in her cell. Even a blanket was denied her now, for fear she might attempt to strangle herself or one of her few visitors, and she was left with only a thin shift for clothing.

She was allowed more when she was imprisoned in the bower, allowed the luxuries of an outer gown and some blankets on her sleeping pallet in cold weather, for the Baron had charged his wife with keeping a watchful eye on her, and Javana had obliged, though out of true concern for Meg rather than Walter's simple desire to keep his brood mare alive. These added luxuries, the Baron had told Meg, were to be considered incentives to do her duty by him. And so she had managed to do twice already, not that she'd willed for it to happen, and twice she had seen her babies snatched from her arms. The second babe, her son, she had seen die, and since she'd seen no signs of her firstborn—a daughter—since her birth, nor had the Baroness, they assumed that child was dead as well. There had been something wrong with both children, Meg had gathered, though she knew not what it was. Nor did Meg understand why the Baron insisted on holding her prisoner and pressing his unwanted attentions on her to breed his sons, when he had a wife—albeit an equally unwilling one—already.

She'd been pregnant with yet another child at the beginning of the year, but while the Baron and Baroness were away, off to visit faraway Rhemuth and the Baroness's family beyond, she'd miscarried that baby. Walter had been far from pleased to find her womb empty upon his return, and had immediately started in on trying for child number four.

The door opened, and Javana slipped into the cell.

#

Javana tried, as usual, to 'forget' to lock the door behind her, but as usual the compulsion kicked in, and she found herself using her Deryni powers to turn the tumblers in the door. Walter did not allow her to use keys to enter the cell; keys, he said, were far too easy for a prisoner to steal, should Meg attempt to overpower her. So only Sir Aylmer was permitted to use his key to open the cell door, and only at dire need, if the Baron or Baroness of Caerdraig were not in residence. So far, the only time Aylmer had had sole custody of her husband's unwilling charge had been the last time Walter had allowed her to accompany him to Rhemuth and to her nephew Jamyl's baptism festivities at Tre-Arilan, rare privileges which he gladly would have denied her if he'd thought he could avoid allowing her to attend without drawing undue suspicion from her family.

She set the tray of food down on a crude wooden bench with a wan smile at Meg, who returned the expression. Both of them had long since come to some measure of acceptance of their strange situation, and were allies of a sort, though neither of them had enough power to break free of Walter's hold on them even with their combined efforts. But they provided some measure of comfort to each other, small though it might be, for shared torment had brought down any natural divisions between noblewoman and rustic, and Javana had come to think of Meg as a sister in shared sorrows.

"Let's see here...today we have bread, cheese, and some roast pork with turnips and carrots." It was simple fare, simply some of the leavings from the noonday meal served to the household earlier in the day, but at least it would be filling. Javana knew that Meg's only hope in resisting Walter, should she ever discover the opportunity, lay in keeping up her strength. Not to mention that if her health were to fail, she'd not be able to breed Walter's heir, and if he decided she'd outlived her usefulness, he would dispose of her. Javana knew better than to think he'd simply remove her memories of her imprisonment and allow her to return to the village. Perhaps if she'd only been missing for a few days, that might have been possible, but allowing her to go free after all these years would be out of the question.

Javana straightened, reaching for the small napkin she'd tucked into her belt, and as she did so, her hand brushed against something unexpected. She glanced down to see her belt knife still neatly tucked into place. She'd forgotten to remove it from her belt in her haste to gather the foodstuffs together before returning to the Great Hall to take her ornamental place seated beside Walter for Court that afternoon.

Javana met Meg's eyes, trying to remove the knife from her belt to hand it to the woman along with the napkin, but of course she could not. Still, if the controls set on her would not allow her to resist them actively, perhaps they could be gotten around by passive means. Javana looked down at the napkin again, still in her hand, still mere inches from her belt knife. She held the position as if frozen, a colorfully painted statue captured in mid-motion, her gaze staring fixedly at the knife at her side.

At last, when Javana had begun to despair that Meg would never catch on, she heard a quiet gasp, then the village woman reached quickly for the knife, enfolding it in the cloth napkin and hiding it in the folds of her skirt.

Javana looked up at that, catching Meg's gaze. She gave the woman a faint glimmer of a smile. "One of us will return for the tray this evening. Enjoy your meal."

"Thank 'ee, m'lady," Meg murmured.

Javana walked to the door quickly, not daring to look back lest the compulsions upon her suddenly kick in belatedly, undoing all her efforts to get around them. She turned the tumblers in the lock, opening the door and edging through it quickly as those controls demanded, locking it behind her before heading up the stairs to dress for Court.

#

_ August 1, late night_

_ Caerdraig Castle, Baron's study_

Walter was livid. Three years he'd invested in that useless wench—four, if one counted the months of careful preparations to ensure the chit was fertile before stealing her away—and all for naught!

She had made her feelings towards him clear, even in her death, stabbing through her womb in an effort to slay any unborn fruit of their union that might have existed—though he had not detected any signs of a new conception yet when he'd checked the week before—then making the cut to her own throat which had ended her life before her perfidy could be discovered. Walter was, alas, not a Healer, but it had been plain to see that Meg had placed herself well outside the scope of even the most skilled Deryni Healer's care, even had one been in the room with her when she made the final deep slash across her jugular.

Meg had been, Walter belatedly remembered, a butcher's daughter.

It was definitely a pity that there was no Hell, for clearly Meg belonged there, doomed to roast for all eternity for the sin of putting herself far outside his reach when he still had need of her. Now he would have to take the risk of finding another wench, preferably one with similar coloring and facial shape as his lovely wife's, before he could try for other sons. He dared not pick just any woman; whoever would have the honor of bearing his heirs ought to at least look similar enough to his wife that any issue from her might plausibly be believed to be Javana's.

Perhaps he should reconsider the matter of Jashana Arilan. Surely his wife would be glad of a sister's companionship after all these years away from home? And any lad who favored Jashana in coloring or feature would favor his aunt Javana as well. Walter allowed himself a brief smile, but it faded as he realized that—amusing as the idea was—harboring two Arilans in his demesne would merely double his troubles with that family. They were like cockroaches, those Arilans; pestilential and into everything. At times Walter wondered if his magnificent wife was truly worth the bother of having to deal with her family.

But then, one week out of every month, he allowed himself to take full ownership of his prize possession, to enjoy the heady pleasures which swiftly reminded him why he had considered this one woman, of all the beautiful Court wenches he'd encountered in Rhemuth, worth his particular attention. No, Javana would not be replaced, at least not yet.

She must, however, be punished for the role she had played in Meg's defiance. Walter had barely managed to glean any fragmentary memories from the dead woman's mind, but he'd recovered just enough in his Death-Reading to show him how Meg had attained the weapon that she'd used to kill herself. He frowned at the thought of the loophole in his controls that Javana had exploited. Maintaining even that level of control over Javana required a fine balance. Too little control, and she would have managed to escape, or at least send out some cry for help, years ago. Too much control, however, and he was left with nothing but an animate puppet, so unable to function without his direct command that even the most dull-witted of observers would have quickly noted that something was wrong with the chit. No, he had striven to find the perfect balance between too little control and too much, but evidently that balance still required a bit of fine tuning.

He would do it tonight. Tonight, he would show Javana exactly what her meddling had caused, sharing his own memories of the death scene with her so the squeamish chit could experience the gory display he'd walked in on in its full glory. She would no doubt be horrified to know her actions had led to Meg's suicide, since doubtless she'd have hoped Meg would turn the knife on him instead—faithless shrews, both!—and while he was still in her mind, he'd discover any other plots she might be planning against him. And then he'd tighten her controls, so she couldn't plot more.


	14. Part Thirteen

** Part Thirteen—Crimes and Punishments**

_August 1, 1130—late night_

_ Caerdraig Castle_

Javana shrank back against her pillow in alarm as Walter threw open the door to her bedchamber. In three long strides he had reached her side, throwing the bed curtains open wider to grab her arm.

_This is it,_ she thought numbly. _Meg's attack has failed, and now I am to die for it. _It was an almost welcome thought, though some small part of her hidden deep inside still yearned to live. She offered up a silent prayer for God's mercy, hoping against hope that she might still be somehow worthy of it, and also hoping her death would be swift.

And then she felt him inside her mind, using his controls on her to force down shields she'd instinctively started to bring up when he'd lunged for her, forcing images into her mind that made her gorge rise. She swallowed hard against the nausea she felt at seeing Meg's blood-drenched form, but even then, Walter allowed her no respite. In that split second, she realized he was searching for information, looking for the damning evidence he needed to seal her fate. She realized also that her mind held another man's secret—one which could spell his death, were Walter to become aware of it. Should she attempt to hide Sir Aylmer's plot from her husband, in hopes it might yet win her eventual freedom, by stuffing it down into the secondary shields even Walter could not yet breach without completely ripping her mind?

No, it was too late; Walter had already brushed against those memories and, shark-like, was coming back around for a closer look. So Javana offered them up, if only reluctantly, sacrificing the lesser monster to the greater one in hopes that the offering would save her from being Mind-Ripped. There were some deaths more horrific to a Deryni than others, and that was one way in which Javana would prefer not to go, not even to escape her nightmare of a husband.

She watched as Walter's face turned red then pale with fury as he realized what he had found. Deep within her mind, Javana sensed the mental controls become even more rigid, until she was even more a prisoner within her body, helpless to do anything more than watch Walter and follow him without question or comment.

#

_ August 2—Midnight_

_ Caerdraig Castle—The Baronial chambers_

Javana felt like a spectator to her own actions as her body moved across the room to open the door and walk down a short corridor to a chamber just beyond. She tapped at that door. "Sir Aylmer!" her voice whispered, seemingly of its own volition. "Are you awake?"

The door opened after only a brief pause, the knight within peering groggily down at her. "My Lady!" He took a quick glance beyond her, his eyes panicked, then seemed to relax as he realized they appeared to be unobserved. "Is something wrong?" he asked, his voice tentative.

Javana's lips curved into a seductive smile. "I've been thinking about your...proposal."

Aylmer's expression changed, somehow managing to look simultaneously elated and alarmed. "Good...good...but your lord husband..." He gave a sidelong look down the corridor at Walter's bedchamber door and stammered, "Not here, my Lady; it's not safe."

"Where, then?" Javana heard herself purr as her hand traced a path down Sir Aylmer's chest. "My fertile time just started, so Walter shan't be seeking me out this week." Her fingertips continued to brush downwards, pausing at his waist before continuing lower.

"I...ah..." Aylmer threw caution to the winds. "There's an empty chamber on the second level that the late Baroness used to use for guests. It's still furnished, and it's far enough from Walter's chamber, he shouldn't notice if we use it."

"Oh, the Scarlet Chamber?" Javana's lips smiled. "Perfect." She turned, casting an inviting look over her shoulder at the knight before disappearing down the corridor. Aylmer waited a discreet interval before quietly following behind her.

#

The Baroness stood beside the velvet-curtain bed when Sir Aylmer entered the Scarlet Chamber, her eyes wide in a face pale with fear. Behind him, he heard the door close quietly. He whirled to see the Baron of Caerdraig leaning casually against the door, a smile on his face, only the pale fire in his icy eyes betraying his wrath. Aylmer glanced at the door handle, wondering if he could wrest his way past Walter long enough to wrench the door open and bolt, but the sound of tumblers clicking into place inside the lock warned him it was too late to make his escape. He swallowed, wondering how Walter had known to find them here…wondering also what excuses he could make that his master might accept.

"Good evening, Sir Aylmer," Walter said softly, "or should I say good morning?"

Aylmer bowed warily. "My lord." His eyes darted to Javana, who said nothing, leaving him to guess how much Walter knew about them. Did he simply think he'd stumbled upon a romantic tryst, or had he guessed it was more than that? He knew he could easily die just for trying to lie with Walter's wife, but if Walter had somehow guessed that his trusted lieutenant had been plotting his murder….

"Aylmer, my friend. How long have you been in my service?"

The knight regarded his Baron uncertainly. "Nigh on a dozen years, my lord, and a dozen years of service to the late baron your father before that, when we served him as pages and then squires together."

"Ah, so you have. And I've entrusted you with many a confidence over those years, have I not?" Walter beamed at him genially. Aylmer began to wonder if he'd mistaken the situation.

"You have, my lord."

"And even with the keeping of my wife a time or two?" The predatory eyes never left Aylmer's. The lieutenant felt a shiver go through him, realizing he'd not been mistaken after all.

"Aye, my lord." Sir Aylmer swallowed nervously. "I can explain." His mind careened wildly, trying to figure out what he could possibly say to buy himself another few precious moments of life.

Walter chuckled. "Oh, no need, my dear Aylmer. You see, I'm prepared to grant you your fondest wish."

Aylmer's eyes darted involuntarily to Javana, who stood statue-still, then back to his baron in utter confusion. "You are, my lord?"

Walter's grin grew positively feral. "Oh yes." He moved towards the center of the space between doorway and bed. "You've always been fascinated by magic, haven't you, my friend? And yet I've done so little of it in your presence, really, aside from a bit of mind-tampering now and again. Very little in the way of…shall we say, _showy_ magic?" He reached into a pouch, pulling out a set of tiny ivory and ebony cubes. "I believe you'll find this fascinating."

Aylmer glanced up at Javana again, hoping for a clue to where this display was leading, but nothing showed in her set features aside from a wary light growing in her eyes. Walter began to set the cubes down in some sort of a pattern, muttering words over them in a voice almost too quiet for him to hear. He thought the words might be in Latin. As he watched, the paired cubes changed, melding together and glowing slightly from within. Walter, with a nod of satisfaction, moved each set of melded cubes—each now forming a gray oblong—away from each other. A dome of light appeared over the space the tiny columns enclosed. Aylmer, momentarily forgetting his fear, _was_ quite fascinated by the ritual, for Walter had never been so overt about his Deryni talents in his presence.

Walter stepped just outside the circle, raising his hands and muttering more arcane words. A chill passed through Aylmer's body as he dimly became aware that the powers his master was calling upon were far from benign. He was never much of a scholar himself—his knowledge of Latin was scant, and encompassed little more than the responses to the Mass that he'd learned by rote as a child, and he'd paid little regard to his religious education, so he hardly recalled what _those_ words meant anymore. But Walter had just conjured up four names that even a man as irreligious as Aylmer had recognized, and with growing horror he saw four shadowy shapes appear at each corner of the area enclosed by the dome of light.

#

Javana's mind shrieked with terror, although her body remained frozen in place, unable to react to what Walter was conjuring, much less run screaming from it. Sweet Jesú, the man was mad! Some detached part of herself registered the mistakes in the ritual that Walter was attempting—mistakes which, if his spell went awry, could lead not only to the deaths of everyone in this room, but possibly everyone in the Castle or in the village below. For the forces her husband were calling upon were powerful ones, not to mention malevolent, and his training was woefully inadequate to the task.

Javana, like the few other Deryni she had known about growing up, was a Servant of the Light, and her familial and Andelonian training—powerful though it had been—had not taught her the specifics of the sort of magic that Walter was now attempting to work. But her mentors had warned about the darker uses of magic in general, teaching her the basics of how to recognize such magics, and what might be done to protect against them, had she access to her full faculties—which, under Walter's control as she was, she did not. And just as Javana had learned to invoke the protection of the archangels when setting up Wards Major, Walter was now calling upon similarly powerful beings to serve as guardians over the ward circle in which he meant to call down a curse upon his hapless lieutenant. The problem was, he had not called upon evenly matched demons for the Four Corners.

Javana tried to remember the demonic opposites to Raphael, Michael, Gabriel and Uriel. To the best of her memory, a more skilled Servant of Darkness would have called upon Baal, Belial, Beelzebub and Arioch for assistance with his curse. But Walter, being both incompletely trained and having no belief in the literal existence of the powers he was calling forth, had simply called forth four well-known demons at random. By chance, he had called on Baal and Beelzebub, though only one was in his rightful corner. But then he'd invoked Lucifer and Mephistopheles to complete the circle. Who knew if his Wards Major would hold against whatever Walter planned to call forth within their area of protection?

#

Walter was momentarily startled as the first shadowy figures began to appear, but then he reminded himself that such ritual magics often manifested in ways that made them easier for the human mind to comprehend. Most people, upon hearing a demon's name invoked in a magical ritual, would expect to see that demon appear, and so one had. It was mere illusion, of course, but an illusion which would serve him well. Aylmer had grown even paler than before under his light tan. The baron suppressed a smile and invoked the next two demons.

It was quite satisfactory, seeing this part of the ritual shaping up so well. He'd only read about this sort of working, knowing a bit of the theory behind it, but had not actually tried this sort of summoning spell before. In theory he ought to have had three other Deryni to assist him, but there was little he could do about that lack. Javana would certainly not be of any help; even if he were to release her controls enough for her to be of assistance, she would doubtless run gibbering from the room, the superstitious little fool!

No, the spell would be quite tiring for him to work by himself, but he was confident he could do so nonetheless. He would simply allow himself a long sleep afterwards. He was the Baron, after all; no one would attempt to gainsay him if he decided to cancel all appointments the following day, claim illness, and remain in his bedchamber until he felt fit and hale again.

It was time for the next stage of the conjuring.

#

Aylmer watched, rooted in place, as a fifth shadowy figure began to coalesce inside the circle of light. This one took on a more solid form, one which eventually became quite recognizable, although he had never seen her in her full unclothed glory before. He gasped as the figure in the circle looked up at him and smiled. It was Javana!

He stared at confusion, glancing between the figure in the circle and the woman just on the other side of it. The woman in the circle _was_ Javana, but somehow even more perfect, more beautiful than Aylmer remembered ever seeing her, even in her happier years before her marriage to Lord Walter. She looked at him, her smile growing, and then she beckoned.

"Your fondest dream, Aylmer," Walter said softly, his silken voice planting a suggestion in the lieutenant's mind. Aylmer found himself stumbling forward, eager to join her, not heeding the warning cries of alarm in his mind, his own intuitive inklings that something was dreadfully wrong. He needed her, this magnificent prize, his heart, his Javana.

A Javana made just for him. As he crossed through the ward barrier, something about that realization felt vaguely wrong, but Aylmer could not have said what anymore.

#

The succubus—for that is what the final words of Walter's spell had conjured forth—fulfilled Aylmer's deepest longings until he fell unconscious from exhaustion. In the process, she had sucked out his soul. There was little left to do after besides rend him limb from limb, which afforded her a few moments of mindless delight, but once she had torn her plaything apart, she grew bored again. Her gaze flitted outside the shining circle.

"I want him," she told Baal, pointing at Walter.

The shadowy figure smiled faintly. "I think not today, poppet."

She pouted. "Tomorrow, then."

He shook his head. "No. But someday, when he's no longer of any use to us, I would enjoy seeing that."

It was all said quietly, too quietly for the Deryni outside their circle to hear, even if they could comprehend the secret language of their kind. But the female Deryni seemed to sense their intent, her lips twitching in silent prayer, invoking aid from the Light Ones she served, though she was powerless to work any rituals at the moment. Still, that ring she wore made her distasteful prey; there were protections prayed over it that they dared not violate.

The male Deryni, though….

Baal growled a chuckle low in his throat. They would humor the male for a bit longer, for he had served the Darkness well in his short mortal lifetime. He would not begrudge the man a few trifling rewards. But someday, that dabbling Deryni upstart would learn proper respect for the Powers he had called forth.

The shadows dispersed, leaving nothing in their wake, not even Aylmer's corpse. Only the gore-spattered stains gracing the valuable Andelonian carpeting between the two wide-eyed Deryni spoke of the horrors that had occurred in the chamber.

#

Walter stared at the bloodstained carpet, slightly dismayed at the loss of the expensive hand-woven furnishing, but his spirits were soon lifted by the thought that he no longer had to watch his back against his lifelong companion's treacheries. He smiled at his wife. "Clean the carpet if you can; dispose of it discreetly if you cannot. I'm sure you don't wish to answer the awkward questions it would raise were one of the chambermaids to discover it in this condition."

The Baron of Caerdraig whistled softly in satisfaction as he returned to his bedchamber.


	15. Part Fourteen

** Part Fourteen—Pestilence**

_May 14, 1132_

_ Tre-Arilan_

Jashana stepped out of her sister-in-law's bedchamber, her face ashen. "Sextus, Sophie's losing the baby. You need to take the children and go _now!_ And then tell Seisyll, once you get the chance. I know the King probably can't spare him just yet, but he'd want to know."

Sextus's mind was awhirl. "We don't even know if Lord Walter is still in Rhemuth, much less that he brought Javana with him. What if they've already returned to the Riding?"

"Then at least we'll have tried!" Jashana's eyes filled with exhausted tears.

Sextus lowered his voice to ensure that the household servants—what few had not already fled when they had discovered the mistress of the household had been stricken by the fever-flux plague—could not hear what he said next. "Jashana, be reasonable! I can't just show up expectedly in Rhemuth with two small children in the middle of a damn quarantine, even if I _do_ use a Transfer Portal rather than riding through the countryside! How would I explain _that_ to the King? 'I'm sorry, Sire; I know there's an epidemic sweeping through the Kingdom and that we're under strict orders to remain where we were when the quarantine fell, but we're the Arilans, and your laws simply don't apply to us!' Do you think he'd take it well?"

"Bloody hell, Sextus, I wasn't suggesting you take them to _him!_" Jashana looked ready to pull out both her own hair and her brother's. "I know you can be discreet, that's your job, isn't it? Just get the children into Javana's keeping whatever way you can and then get back here. I _need_ you!" She closed her eyes against a sudden wave of fatigue, then ran her fingers over her brow with a fatigue-banishing spell to dispel it. "I wouldn't ask, except Seisyll's last communication with us implied that there were far fewer cases of the fever-flux appearing as far north as the Kheldish Riding. The disease is already established in Rhemuth, so it's not like you can do any more damage by showing up there now, no matter how you get there. But if we can get the children north to safety…."

Sextus sighed. "All right, I'll do what I can. But what if Walter _didn't_ bring Javana with him to Rhemuth this year, or if they already returned home before the quarantine fell? I doubt _he_ knows anything about Transfer Portal travel, or at least of Portals near Caerdraig, or I'm sure he'd have availed himself of them long before now. And he's hardly likely to be willing to bring two young children all the way back to the Riding on horseback without Javana along to deal with them, even if Kelson were to grant him leave to do so."

"Well, if they're not there, then there's little you can do besides bring the children back home again; either that, or travel on with them to Stavenham and then find a way to get them to Caerdraig in hopes Javana will take them in once you're there. But if Walter's still in Rhemuth and able to get the babies to safety—with _or_ without Javana—then he can damn well _learn_ to act like a member of this family for once!" Jashana's eyes blazed amethyst fire. "Javana knows how to use a Portal, and if _she's_ not there, then you can teach Walter how to use one, and show him the location in Stavenham." She cast a glance at the closed door behind her, blinking back tears before turning pleading eyes back to her brother. "Sophie could very well die from this, you know; a miscarriage is hard enough on a healthy woman, but when you add the fever-flux on top of the blood loss…Oh, Jesú!" She choked back a sob. "_She_ can't cope with the children right now, and I haven't the energy to handle them while trying to nurse her back to health. And what if _they_ fall sick as well, or if we do? Do you really want to have to tell Seisyll we didn't even _try_ to get his children to safety?"

Sextus rubbed his forehead, feeling a headache coming on. "No, of course not. I'll do it. It's just…I can't make any promises this will work, you know."

Jashana nodded, looking resigned. "I know."

#

_ May 14_

_ City of Rhemuth, rented lodgings of the Baron of Caerdraig_

Walter stared in annoyed astonishment at the visitors outside his Rhemuth apartment door. "What in the hell…?" he blurted before he managed to catch himself. Regaining his composure somewhat, he summoned up a smile for his brother-in-law. "What a pleasant surprise! Unfortunately, Sextus, I was on my way out."

Sextus, carrying his two-year-old nephew in his arms and holding the hand of his five-year-old niece, smiled grimly at Walter. "No problem, brother. I was actually here to see Javana."

"I'm afraid your sister isn't available either."

"Oh?" Sextus stared past him at the woman who had just moved into sight from an adjoining room. "Who is _that_, then?" He grinned at Javana, who looked startled to see her brother in the doorway.

Walter whirled to see his baffled wife behind him. He suppressed a disgruntled sigh, watching as Javana turned an alarmed gaze down at her niece, then back up at her brother's face.

"Oh, Sextus, you shouldn't have brought them here! It's not safe in Rhemuth right now; surely Seisyll must have told you! We're under quarantine."

Sextus pushed past Walter before he could react, moving to catch his sister in a quick embrace. "I know; so is the entire Kingdom. But it's even less safe for the children in Tre-Arilan right now." Swiftly he caught her up on the latest news from home, making note of the growing disquiet on Walter's face out of the corner of his eye as he did so. "You'll be safer if you can get to Caerdraig as soon as possible, and bring the children with you. There are fewer cases of the fever-flux up there, it seems. Once the first frosts hit and the epidemic dies down, I'll fetch them back. Unless you'd rather return them to Tre-Arilan yourself instead?"

"I'm afraid that's out of the question," Walter said, shooting a stormy look at his wife. "Kelson would hardly allow us to break quarantine just to take a nine-day journey across the Kingdom with your brother's children in tow, possibly spreading contagion the entire way, or else needlessly exposing them—and ourselves—to worse outbreaks. I understand your fears for their safety, but they'd be better off back at Tre-Arilan where they belong."

Sextus kept his eyes on Javana. "What if I told you it wouldn't require a nine-day journey, but only one day's ride between Stavenham and Caerdraig? I know that would be difficult with small children, but surely it's not impossible?"

Javana glanced down at her young niece, peeking shyly up at her from behind her uncle's leg. "You know of a Transfer Portal in Stavenham?" she said slowly.

Walter's gaze flitted between brother and sister in growing bafflement. "A Transfer Portal?"

"It's a Deryni means of near-instantaneous travel between two magically set locations," Sextus explained. "They're rare, since most of the older ones have been destroyed and only the most formally trained Deryni remember how to create new ones anymore, but I know of one in Stavenham. Using it might be a bit risky, but if doing so will get the children away from the center of the epidemic, we're willing to take that chance." Sextus's eyes pleaded with Javana. "My sister has used a Portal before. I'm willing to show her the location of the Stavenham one." Glancing back at his brother-in-law, he tried another tack more likely to appeal to Walter's self-interest. "And of course, once Javana has learned both locations and has shown you how to travel between Rhemuth and Stavenham via Portal, your trips to and from Court will be a lot more convenient from now on once the quarantine is lifted. Think of the travel time you'll save!"

#

Walter felt torn. This promise of a new form of quick travel between the Riding and Rhemuth was quite tempting, and he longed to learn more about how he could put this discovery to good use. Surely if there were two such Portals in the Kingdom, there must be others, and if he could learn where some of those others were, he could continue in his nocturnal entertainments with less fear of discovery. Since having to curtail his activities in the Caerdraig area, he had limited his more illicit pleasures to those times when he was on the road between Caerdraig and Rhemuth, but as a result, some of the villages along that route were becoming…overharvested? He'd wondered how he was going to continue on without increasing his risk of being caught at his games, and Sextus's revelation now hinted at a new means of widening his hunting grounds.

On the other hand, to gain this knowledge, he would have to trust that the controls he'd set in Javana were sufficient to prevent her escape or further plots against him while she was apart from his supervision for some unknown length of time, caring for those two Arilan brats all the way across the Kingdom while he was stuck here, at the King's beck and call, for the duration of the emergency, and unable to keep her controls under constant check and maintenance. He could hardly count on _his_ sudden departure to go unnoticed, after all, and the King was unlikely to grant permission for him to return to his lands when no one else stuck in Rhemuth during this unforeseen quarantine had been granted leave yet to return to theirs. So if he were to give in to Sextus's request to take the Arilan brats into safe-keeping, Javana would have to return to Caerdraig without him.

Walter did not like that part of the plan at all.

"I'm sorry, Sextus, but until the King lifts the quarantine, I daren't return to Caerdraig, even for a short while. His Majesty would surely notice my sudden absence, you know. But perhaps once the quarantine is lifted, you could show us where those Portals are located then?"

Sextus met his eyes steadily, a faint smile on his face. "Well, I'm sorry the King can't spare you, but Javana is less likely to be missed, isn't she? Is Kelson even aware that she's here with you in Rhemuth?"

Damn his hide; the man was Truth-Reading him! Walter carefully shielded his fury from his brother-in-law as he reluctantly answered. "No. I suppose she wouldn't be missed."

He wondered how much Sextus Arilan had guessed about the nature of his relationship with his wife. Perhaps, once this current emergency died down, he would need to look into arranging a convenient accident for the interfering young man.

#

Sextus had no idea what had prompted him to ask that question, or to Truth-Read Walter's answer. It was one of those spontaneous gut instincts, he supposed, but he'd long since learned to take note of those and follow those hunches. Sometimes he realized later why he'd had the hunch, and other times he never figured out why, but regardless, his gut instincts had generally served him well. But Jesú, if the King were unaware that Walter had brought his Baroness to Rhemuth—something hardly likely to be commented on, much less denied, before the quarantine had fallen—then that would mean she probably had not left this apartment much during her time here, if at all. Certainly she must not be in the habit of taking her meals in the Castle's Great Hall, or leaving her apartment here in the City of Rhemuth to visit friends and family in residence at the Castle, or not only would the King be aware of her presence here, Seisyll would have mentioned something about it during one of his weekly contacts with the family. But wait…no, _that_ was it! Seisyll hadn't said anything about Javana's presence in Rhemuth, although he'd mentioned Walter's arrival a few weeks back, shortly before the quarantine had been imposed. And if _Seisyll_ hadn't been aware of her presence here... Had Javana been confined to the Baron's private lodgings this entire time? The fever-flux had entered both the City of Rhemuth and Rhemuth Castle more or less simultaneously, so there had never been any need to quarantine Castle from City, nor was there any easy way of doing so, even had the need arisen. Rhemuth might be cut off from the outside world from the moment, but it was hardly a house divided, so if Javana were free to come and go within Rhemuth as she pleased, surely she'd have ventured up to the Castle long before now? Had Walter for some reason forbidden this?

He wished he dared ask her, but with the Baron watching them both intently, he kept his silence. But now, more than ever, he wanted Javana to take the children far from here to the relative safety of Caerdraig. Not only to get them all away from the worst of the fever-flux until the epidemic had run its course, but also, at least for the time being, to get her far away from her husband.

Perhaps in the Kheldish Riding, away from Walter's constant presence, he might finally get some answers from his sister about what was going on in her marriage.

_#_

_ May 15, early morning hours_

_ The Hog's Head Inn, Stavenham_

Sextus handed his eldest sister a pouch of coin. "This should help with anything the children might require until we're able to return for them once the fever-flux dies down. Since I'll be coming back by way of the Portal again, I should easily be able to get them off your hands before Walter's return, if you think that would be advisable."

Javana thought that would, indeed, be _extremely_ advisable, but she could hardly say so, so she merely nodded. "Would there be sufficient funds in here for me to hire a coach to Caerdraig?"

"I've already spoken to the ostler and made arrangements for the hire of a coach and horses and one of the stable men. You should be back home in a day or two, depending on how many rest stops the children need along the way, and then the man can bring the coach and pair back here afterward once they've rested up."

"And no awkward questions asked? They haven't asked why the Baroness of Caerdraig is wandering through the countryside with two young children during a plague year?" Javana stared worriedly up at him.

Sextus gave her a wry smile. "I…ah...may have given him a bit of a mental nudge _not_ to ask difficult questions. And don't bother lecturing me on the ethics of that, unless you intend to go down there and tell him we're a Deryni family hopping about the Kingdom by arcane means, who simply don't wish to walk with two small children the remaining fifty miles home."

"That wasn't at the top of my list of preferred explanations to give," Javana admitted with a slight grin.

Sextus studied his sister in concern. "When I return for the children, shall I bring you back home also? You don't seem very happy in your marriage. I know Walter is your legal lord now, but legalities be damned, Javana; we're all worried about you!"

Javana dropped her eyes, wanting with every fiber of her being to accept his offer, to put her husband far behind her, but she knew only too well now what Walter was capable of, and what vengeance he would wreak upon her family if she dared to defy him. If she even _could_ defy him. Unless she could make her brother aware of the controls within her mind, leaving Walter was a moot point. And Walter's controls had made her unable to even invite Sextus to peek into her mind.

"I'm fine," she whispered tonelessly. "You mustn't worry. I'll…I'll keep the children safe until the quarantine is lifted, but once it is, it would be best if you return for them quickly." She thought of Meg's two babies, dead before they'd seen more than an hour of life. "Walter isn't overly fond of children."

"What is wrong with the man, to make him want to cut you off from your own family? Javana, sweeting, we've hardly seen you in years!"

"I know." Javana sternly suppressed tears. "Walter's…a very private sort. He prefers to keep to himself as much as possible."

"Fine, he can become a hermit for all we care, if that's what he wants. But surely he could allow _you_ to visit more often?"

"He could," Javana soothed. "I'll ask him; perhaps he'll be persuadable."

She didn't believe that. Sextus knew she didn't without having to Truth-Read her. He could see it in her eyes. He wanted with all his heart to get to the bottom of this puzzle, to figure out what sort of unhealthy stranglehold Lord Walter had on his own wife that prevented her from sharing her problems honestly with her own family, but his gut told him that if he persisted in questioning her, he would only get more of the same evasive answers. He was tempted to try more arcane means of discovering the truth, but his sister was just as well trained in the Deryni arts as he was, and would doubtless shield any knowledge from him that she had not felt comfortable in confiding out loud even with Walter nowhere within earshot. And trying to force confidences out of his sister would doubtless only widen the rift between her and himself, not close it.

He held her close, planting a kiss upon her brow. "I'd best be getting back home, before it's too light outside for me to sneak back into the shrine and get to the Portal without being seen. Jashana wasn't expecting me to be away this long; she'll probably be frantic with worry thinking we've been discovered. And I've not contacted Seisyll to tell him about Sophie's miscarriage yet, much less that I've brought his children to you." His brow creased. "I only hope he still has a wife when I get back. Jesú, I'd hate to have to inform him he's lost a wife and son both this week!"

Javana hugged him back. "Be careful, Sextus."

Sextus gently disengaged himself from his sister's arms, bending to kiss his sleeping niece and nephew lightly as they slept. "I told the children they'd be going on an adventure with their Aunt Javana. They should be fine. Perhaps a little homesick at first, but with a little 'persuasion' they'll quickly adapt to their new home away from home until we return for them."

Javana nodded, looking down at her sleeping charges. The last thing she wanted to do with either innocent was use the sort of mental 'persuasion' that her brother had hinted at, benign though the intent might be, now that she lived daily with psychic violation of a far more malignant sort, but she said nothing, simply nodding as Sextus spoke. The children would doubtless be tearful for their first few days of separation from all that they knew, until they grew more used to her, but Javana was resigned to that, and with Walter far away, it would be less of an issue.

It would be foolish of her—and dangerous for them—for her to grow too attached to the children during their stay. If she grew too fond of them, Walter would eventually discover that, no matter how hard she might try to hide her feelings from him, and they'd become yet another weapon in his arsenal against her. But she would go through the motions, at least, and the little ones would never suffer from lack of her care. She'd see to that much. She was still an Arilan, after all, as were her brother's children, and despite Walter's best efforts he could never take _that_ from her.

She saw Sextus out and joined the children in their shared bed to await the dawn's light.


	16. Part Fifteen

** Part Fifteen—Hounds On The Trail**

_ September 22, 1132_

_ Rhemuth Castle, Arilan apartment_

Jashana set her weaving aside for a moment, tightening her cloak around her to ward off the slight chill in the air, even though it was just after noonday. She was still unused to the unseasonably early cold snap, but at least the early frosts had killed off the last of the mosquito infestation that had plagued the city and countryside all summer long. She watched as her younger brother bent over a desk, working on a report for the King. He still looked a little frail to her eyes, although it had been several months now since he'd been stricken by the fever-flux virus, just a short while after their sister-in-law had started her long recovery from the ravages of that illness herself. The physicians had assured Seisyll that both Sextus and Sophie would make a full recovery of their strength, but that it would take time, for both had come so close to death during the time of pestilence.

Seisyll and Sophie were away at the moment, the couple enjoying an autumn stroll in the Castle gardens with their two young children, newly returned from the Kheldish Riding. Seisyll had gone to collect them himself, not wishing for Sextus to over-exert himself while still regaining his strength.

The door opened, and Lady Sophie's tiring maid Annie entered the room, her cheeks pink from the cool air and her brisk uphill walk back from the City of Rhemuth, and possibly also from excitement, judging from the sparkle in her blue eyes as she bobbed a curtsey to Jashana and Sextus. "It's a lovely day, it is, if a mite coolish, m'lord an' m'lady; ye ought to venture out afore it grows too cold again."

"I might at that," Sextus said, glancing out a window, glad for the distraction from his report. He turned to grin at the tiring maid. "I don't suppose you'd fancy another walk to show me the sights of Rhemuth?"

The maid laughed, her cheeks growing rosier. "Ah, no, m'lord, ye already know Rhemuth far better than _I_ do, I trust, an' Lady Sophie'd have me skin if I did! She says ye're a randy rogue an' a rapscallion, an' no' to be trusted wi' a maid, an' if ye were to try for me, I was to set ye nicely on yer ear. Wi' respect, sir," she added cheekily, bobbing another curtsey at him.

Sextus chuckled. "And so you have." He turned back to his work, still grinning. "Worth a shot, though."

Jashana shook her head, lobbing a skein of wool yarn at his back. "Reprobate! Leave the household maids be; Sophie's worked awfully hard to train them up right, and she'd not thank you for trying to plow your way through the lot." She smiled at Annie, who suppressed a giggle. "And what's happening in the City right now? Any news?"

"Oh, aye, m'lady, there's a major row over in th' Market Square! Th' chandler's wife's been tossed out o' her home on account o' she's three months gone wi' child, an' it ain't his!"

"Wait, what?" Jashana looked up from her weaving. "How does he know the baby's not his?"

"Because he ain't capable! Tha's why he married her a six-month ago; she's an apothecary's daughter from two shops down, an' he'd hoped she'd know a cure, but she swears she's still a virgin. Only wi' her bein' three months along an' all, tha's a bit doubtful, don't ye think?" The girl grinned. "Leastways, tha's wha' they were shoutin' back an' forth at each other across th' Market Square this morning as th' chandler was pitchin' her clothes out th' upper floor window."

Sextus looked up again, his curiosity piqued. "So, let me get this straight. She's been married six months, but the marriage was never consummated. But she's three months gone with child anyway, even though she says she's still a virgin. Did I get it right?"

"Aye, m'lord!" Annie laughed. "Her husband asked if she intends to name the babe Jesú."

Jashana chuckled absently, but her attention was caught by the intent expression on her brother's face. "What is it, Sextus?"

Sextus drummed his fingers on the desk, lost in thought for a few moments, then stood abruptly. "Annie, would you take me there?"

The maid looked startled. "Take you where, m'lord?"

"To the chandler's shop. Or, better yet, to the apothecary's, if the woman's returned to her father's house. Has she, do you know?"

The tiring maid shrugged, baffled. "I don't rightly know, m'lord. I reckon she would, under th' circumstances, if he'll have her back. Especially as her husband ain't truly her husband, if she ain't had no proper beddin' from him." She stared at him. "But ye don't believe her story, do ye?"

He shook his head slowly. "I don't believe she's a virgin mother, no. But it would be interesting to hear her side of things, especially if she truly believes she's telling the truth."

"But…how could she be?"

Sextus reached for his sheathed sword, strapping his weapon to his side. "I don't know yet." He finished adjusting his scabbard, looking back up at the girl. "Where is this apothecary shop? Which side of the Square?"

"Th' east side o' it, m'lord, next door to th' Gold Lion Tavern, across from Saint Bart's."

Jashana pictured the location in her mind. "That's only a few buildings west of Walter and Javana's Rhemuth residence, isn't it?" She studied her brother's resolute face. "What are you thinking, Sextus?"

Sextus glanced cautiously at the maid, then back at his sister. "Until I've spoken to the chandler's wife, it's too soon for me to be thinking much of anything. But if my hunch proves to have any basis in fact, I'll let you know." He raised an eyebrow at the maid. "Annie?"

The tiring maid glanced uncertainly at Jashana, who nodded. "Lady Sophie will understand, under the circumstances. I'll explain." She looked up at her brother, then gave the maid a wry smile. "Sextus _can_ behave, he just usually can't be bothered to."

Sextus, suppressing a snort, opened the apartment door for the hesitant tiring maid. "Lead the way, sweeting."

#

"So, what did you discover?" Seisyll leaned back in his favorite chair, listening to his brother in growing consternation. Jashana had apprised him of the tiring maid's tale and Sextus's interest in pursuing the odd mystery as soon as he'd returned from his walk with his wife and children. Sophie and the children, quite fortunately, had decided to continue on to the Basilica to pay a visit to Bishop Duncan before returning to the family apartment, so Jashana hadn't had to wait until the younger members of the family were abed before informing her eldest brother of the latest developments. And shortly after his own arrival back, Sextus and Annie had returned. Jashana had sent Annie on an errand so that Sextus could report his findings back to Seisyll in greater privacy.

"It's a similar sort of thing to what Ethan and I happened across in the Kheldish Riding a few years back," Sextus informed him, shooting his sister a glance of apology for the painful reminder of her late betrothed. "She believes her story is absolutely true, but while she was telling me about it, I managed to take a peek at her memories, and they've clearly been altered. There's a night about three months back when her last clear memory is of walking home from her father's shop—that is, she recalls _leaving _the apothecary's stall—but from there it jumps forward to the next morning. She doesn't actually recall arriving at home and going to bed. I don't simply mean she doesn't _actively_ remember those things either; after three months, one would hardly expect her to recall the specific details of one particular and mostly unremarkable evening. But the memories aren't stored within her mind at _all_, as far as I could see."

Seisyll pursed his lips in thought. "You say it's _similar_ to what you saw in those women near Caerdraig. But it's not the same? How is it different?"

Sextus took a sip of Fianna wine. "The women in Caerdraig—Meg, especially—couldn't remember exactly what had happened to them, but they usually had some inkling that it had been something bad. Feelings of dread, signs of physical harm, sometimes just odd snippets of memory that made them wonder if they might be going mad, sometimes memories that were vividly clear in some aspects yet blurred in others to conceal the identity of the attacker." He took another sip of his wine, frowning. "Actually, there's another woman here in Rhemuth I've heard about lately who might fit the pattern as well, and if she's tied in with this, her case may be even more like what I saw in the Riding. I had thought that was just an isolated incident, but….well, maybe it's not."

Seisyll, his elbows on the table before him, steepled his fingers, tapping them gently against his lips. "And this other woman's story?"

"You'd recognize her, Seisyll, though you might not know her by name. Kate, the scrumptious redhead who used to work at the Gold Lion Tavern a few years back. Her father's Lewis Macdonal, the tavern owner, in fact. She was wed to Bill Draper."

"The Gold Lion's just a door or two down from the apothecary's shop, yes?"

"Yes. Right next door."

Seisyll nodded. "Continue."

"Kate stopped working at the Gold Lion quite abruptly after she was abducted and violated while walking home late one night. Her father tried to quell the rumors, said she'd simply decided to stop working because she was expecting her firstborn child. But once the child was born, the rumors started up again." Sextus swirled the wine in his goblet. "Bill Draper was a fair-haired man; Kate's baby had dark hair, nearly black as coal. And there's no dark hair on either side of that match for three or four generations back. It started the talk back up, as you might imagine."

"Does the lass verify the rumors, or does she deny them?"

Sextus shrugged. "I've not had a chance to speak with her in years; she's turned man-shy from what I've heard, though I've hardly caught even a glimpse of her since she used to work at the tavern. She wasn't shy in those days." He smiled sadly. "I don't mean she was a lightskirt—Kate was never that—but she knew how to make a guest feel welcome at the Gold Lion." A quiet chuckle. "I used to like going there of an evening to practice my pick-up lines on her. Not that they ever worked, but I think she found it amusing."

A memory dawned in Seisyll's mind. "Oh, I remember her now. She called you 'little cub.'" He grinned slightly at his brother's faint blush, though the grin swiftly faded as he considered what had happened to Kate since that time. "Does Kate work in her husband's shop now, or does she stay at home instead?" He glanced at Jashana. "Maybe if she's working in the draper's shop, Jashana could take a look at some wool fabric and get a peek into Kate's mind while she's there."

Jashana shivered. "I'd rather not, thank you, unless it's absolutely necessary. I'm not really keen on experiencing someone's memories of rape."

"I know, and I'm not asking you to delve deeply into _that_ aspect of her memories. She's hardly likely to let me or Sextus close enough to even talk with her about what she might have gone through, much less let us Mind-See her, though. If we could just know for certain if the rape actually did occur, and how much of the event she actually remembers, if anything of it, that would be helpful."

Jashana raised her eyebrows. "The existence of a dark-haired child isn't evidence enough?"

Seisyll shook her head. "No, that's just evidence that the child probably isn't her husband's. It says nothing about how she happened to get with child by another man, nor about whether she remembers what happened or not."

His sister sighed. "All right. And if it turns out that her memories have been toyed with, like the chandler's wife's, what does _that_ mean?"

Sextus and Seisyll glanced at each other. "It means that there could be other women like them out there, possibly even in the same neighborhood, who have experienced the same thing," Sextus offered.

"Yes. And there are women in the Kheldish Riding who have gone through very similar experiences as well, if not identical ones," Seisyll added. "It would be interesting to see if there might be other occurrences of the same sort of thing between Rhemuth and the Kheldish Riding."

Jashana stared at them in growing horror. "All the way across the Kingdom? You think it's the same Deryni, then?"

Seisyll looked grim. "Let's hope it is. If it's not, then that means we've got _two_ rogue Deryni doing the same thing to women on opposite ends of the Kingdom, and _that's_ certainly not the sort of news Kelson Haldane is going to want to hear now that the Statutes of Ramos have finally been repealed and Deryni are beginning to feel free to reveal themselves to humans for the first time in two centuries! Sweet Jesú, this could set all his work back to how things were a century ago, if word gets out about what's been happening to these women." He took a deep breath. "Can you find some excuse to meet with Kate, Jashana?"

She nodded, her face pale. "I'll do my best."

#

_ September 25_

_ City of Rhemuth_

Jashana's first inquiries did not take her directly to the draper's shop. Instead, she spent a few mornings and afternoons getting acquainted with Kate Draper's neighborhood, exploring the surroundings and meeting several of the women who lived and worked in the area. Only once she had established herself as a respectable tailor's widow who was looking for an inexpensive apartment in Rhemuth's market area where she might be able to take in some commissions to do fine needlework did some of the area women start to exchange confidences with her. She knew it would be a stretch for her to try to pass herself off as a rustic; even though she felt confident that she could act the part, a sharp observer would notice her hands were too soft and well-maintained for a woman who lived off the land, and she retained the youthful appearance that women with harsher lives lost early on. She was not nearly as skilled at altering her appearance to project what others might expect to see as Sextus or Seisyll were; both were far more practiced at that art. But the guise of a respectable woman of the middling class—a merchant's daughter or the like, whose father was aging and could not be depended upon for much longer to provide her sustenance and shelter—she could manage easily enough.

Once the local wives and widows knew her as a working woman like themselves, one with good reason to ask questions about what sort of neighborhood she might be moving into, they were glad enough to talk of all they knew regarding both the advantages and the potential dangers of life near Market Square for a lone woman such as herself, who hadn't the advantage of a strong male protector. It was, she was assured, an excellent location to set herself up in a small room above a shop and to attract custom for her finely stitched wares. There would be competition, but judging from the samples of her work she'd shown around, nothing so outstanding in comparison that she could not easily draw interest in her own handiwork. She would be well advised to share lodgings with another widow, however, or rent a room with a shopkeeper's family, as a woman living completely on her own was less safe, not to mention she was more likely to be considered disreputable and therefore a fair target for the attentions of a less reputable sort of man.

At last she was able to subtly work the conversations around to the topic of the draper's widow.

"Oh, aye, Kate Draper's man died in th' fever-flux plague a couple months back; she might have a room t' spare, come t' think," the cobbler's wife offered. "Some o' her custom might be in th' market for fine needlework, though if yer willin' t' take in more common sempstress jobs, there might be more of a call for that sort o' thing." The woman frowned slightly. "O' course, Kate's a bit of an odd sort, but it's little wonder, considerin' all she's been through, poor duck."

"You mean, with her husband dying so recently, and in such an awful way?" Jashana prompted, as if she'd never heard anything else about the Drapers.

"Well, that too," the butcher's wife told her, looking around quickly to see who else was in earshot. She lowered her voice slightly to whisper in confidential terms, "Kate don't like anyone t' know, but ye'd hear of it soon enough. She was violated a few years back, no' long after th' young King's Coronation, God bless 'is soul! It's made 'er a bit queer in th' head, but she's no' th' dangerous sort, mind, just a bit shy. A recluse, Kate is. But she might welcome a lodger, come t' think, especially if ye'll help 'er deal wi' the male custom. She's no' much for men now; even 'er own Bill—God rest 'is soul!—took separate rooms afore 'e died, an' they was right close before th' tragedy happened."

"Oh, poor dear!" Jashana murmured. "That must have been awful for her. Did it happen close by?"

The woman risked another quick glance around before lowering her voice even more. "It was one o' th' back alleys behind th' Gold Lion Tavern, I heard tell, an' Kate's right lucky t' be alive, if ye ask me! It were a moonless night tha' night, an' if th' night watchman hadn't happened by when 'e did, it might ha' been her corpse he found tha' night an' not a live woman. Whoever done 'er was right savage about it. Knowin' wha' Kate used t' be like, I reckon she must've put up a huge fight. She were a feisty sort, our Kate, once."

"But not anymore?" Jashana asked softly.

"Nay. She shrinks at shadows now, Kate does. It's a damn shame, an' I hope t' God they catch th' men someday, an' string 'em up above Rivergate by their privy parts!"

"There was more than one man involved then?"

The butcher's wife shrugged. "Well, Murraugh th' night watch what found 'er said 'e thought 'e saw two men run off into th' adjoining alley when 'e come up t' th' scene, but 'e stopped t' check on Kate first—'is sister's daughter used t' work at th' Gold Lion Tavern wi' Kate—an' by th' time 'e got help for 'er an' raised th' hue an' cry, th' men were long gone. One o' th' men had dark hair though, I know tha' much."

"She told you that?"

"Nay, Kate don't like t' own it ever happened at all, but she had a babe th' following autumn, an' Cass has hair black as midnight. Bill, he were a blond, an' Kate's got bright red hair like oak leaves in autumn. Cass takes after 'er real father right enough, whoever _'e_ were. Kate keeps 'er hid away most o' th' time, but if ye get a room above 'er shop, ye'll see her soon enough. A right queer child, Cass."

"What's queer about her?"

The butcher's wife stopped to think. "Well, she keeps t' herself mostly, though tha' might be Kate's doin', but th' lass hardly talks at all, though she _can_ talk. Just mainly sits in th' window watchin' th' world go by wi' those queer eyes o' hers. Pale blue as aquamarines, Cass's eyes are. She ain't right. No' a simpleton, mind—it's no' as easy t' figure wha's wrong wi' her as tha'. She's more like a changeling child, Cass is, mutterin' t' herself in corners an' playin' by herself when Kate's no' got her workin'. She don't fit in wi' th' rest. Ye ask me, Kate should'a left her as a foundling at th' church door years ago, but early on she was still tryin' t' pass th' babe off as Bill's get despite th' hair."

Jashana frowned thoughtfully. "Cass must be a painful daily reminder of the attack Kate suffered. Does she have a good relationship with her daughter, or did she find it difficult to bond with the child, given the circumstances of Cass's conception?"

The butcher's wife snorted. "Kate don't bond well wi' no one nowadays, least of all Cass. They live in th' same house, an' Kate provides for her needs well enough—she's no' a neglectful mother in tha' way—but nay, I'd no' call them close. Bill tended t' th' babe more than Kate did, when he were alive. No' tha' he wanted her, but he felt bounden t' provide for th' chit. It weren't Kate's fault, he said, an' he'd no' see a child starve under 'is watch. A decent man, Bill were, an' he tried t' do right by them both, even after it were clear Kate couldn't abide a husband's touch no more." The butcher's wife looked out her window, pointing out a shadowy figure peering out the window of a building directly opposite hers. "There's Kate now, if ye want t' inquire about a room t' let above her shop."

#

Kate Draper was hardly the most welcoming sort, but after all Jashana had heard about her, she'd hardly expected the draper's widow would be. Kate grudgingly allowed that there was a spare room above her shop, and that it might be available for another widow in need to use while she set up her own business. They discussed price briefly, though Jashana told her that she needed to discuss her financial situation with her ailing father first before securing a Rhemuth apartment, so Kate needn't feel bound to hold it available for her if some other prospective lodger were to come along who might have need of the room sooner and had the coin readily to hand.

As they talked, Jashana tried to find an opportunity to take a closer look at Kate's mind without the human woman's knowledge of what she was up to, but this was proving more difficult than Jashana had feared it might be. Bill Draper's business had been a prosperous one, and customers were frequently entering and leaving the shop, so there was little privacy. Not to mention Jashana had to override her own qualms and the ethical training that had been drummed into her from childhood simply to consider doing such a thing, though her conversations with the other women in the neighborhood had quickly convinced her that discovering what Kate might remember about her attackers would not be a simple matter of simply asking her the right question, much less for permission to take a peek at such painful memories. Even more to the point, even without permission, the memories she sought to find were so traumatic it would be difficult for Jashana to access them without Kate becoming aware that she was doing so. She could blur or even erase any recollection of her visit afterwards, of course, but while actually inside Kate's mind...well, the situation was bound to be awkward at best, unless Kate were sound asleep at the time Jashana attempted the psychic probe. And Kate was hardly likely to be so obliging as to volunteer for a midday nap while Jashana was there inquiring after rooms to let! No, Jashana mused, it would probably be best if she could talk Seisyll into actually allowing her to rent rooms there for a short time. If they lived in the same home, Jashana might eventually have an opportunity to catch Kate unawares and secure the information that they sought. Perhaps she could even help Kate afterwards, blurring the traumatic memories that were holding Kate back from having a full and healthy life. If she could, that would ease some of Jashana's guilt for having to peek into Kate's private thoughts uninvited in the first place. It would be like a healer tending to an unconscious patient, Jashana told herself. Just as a wounded man in a swoon over grievous injuries could not ask for help, though he would readily do so if conscious, so Jashana told herself that Kate would surely avail herself of mental healing if only she knew such a thing might be possible.

She said her farewells to Kate, promising her she'd return or send word soon if she meant to secure the spare room, adding a few words about the handiness of setting up a needlework business just above a draper's shop, and headed towards the front of the shop. As she was speaking, she felt the quick brush of mind against mind. Jashana stiffened slightly, wondering if she'd imagined the sensation, or if someone in the shop had just Truth-Read her. Surely it wasn't Kate; Jashana had detected no signs of shields in the woman, who seemed to be fully human as far as her quick perusal of the shopkeeper could determine. As she approached the door, she caught sight of a young girl sitting in a corner of the shop, brushing wool. As their eyes met, Jashana sensed another quick probe brush against her shields. She stopped just short of the door, staring at the child in amazement before it dawned on her that, having been sired by a Deryni, it was hardly a surprise that the girl was Deryni as well.

_You must be more careful about touching people's minds that way except at great need_, Jashana Mind-spoke to the girl. _Most won't be aware, but some might take offense, and a few might even prove to be a danger to you._

Cass looked startled as Jashana's warning sounded directly in her mind, but then she lifted her chin slightly, giving the visitor a defiant look. _Why did ye lie t' me Ma?_

Jashana regarded the child, considering her options. She could hardly just stand there in front of the door looking at the girl and silently speaking with her; after a while, someone was bound to notice her standing there staring and might wonder why. So she fished in her pouch for a coin, offering it to the girl. "A farthing if you'll show me the way to Dyers Lane from here."

The girl looked to her mother, still standing at the rear of the shop, for permission. Kate responded with a curt nod, and the girl put down her wool brush, standing from her bench in the corner and bobbing a quick curtsey. "Aye, mistress, this way."

Once the two were a short distance from the draper's shop, Jashana ventured, _You're a sharp lass. What made you believe I was lying to your mother?_

Cass looked up at her, those ice-blue eyes regarding her steadily. _I jus' know when someone is tellin' a lie or not, when I want t' know. I sort o' weigh their words in me mind. I can't rightly explain it, I just do it. Ye tol' her ye were needin' lodgin's t' set up shop in. Th' lookin' for a room bit seemed right enow, but ye're no' lookin' t' take in needlework, are ye? Wha' are ye, some sort o' doxy? Ma won't hold no truck wi' tha' sort o' work in 'er shop, if ye are. An' if ye're th' thievin' sort, ye ought t' know we let an attack dog loose in th' shop late at night t' keep out th' riff-raff. Only Ma an' I can call him off._

Cass's description of how her truth discernment worked sounded like a reasonable, if untrained, explanation for Truth-Reading, Jashana thought. _Fair enough_, she assured the girl. _I mean to do nothing of the sort, and I mean your mother and her business no harm. _She studied the girl's back as the girl darted between two laden carts and continued down a narrow side street. _Is your mother Deryni also, as you are?_

The child stopped in her tracks, looking over her shoulder at Jashana in shock. _Is _tha'_ wha' I am? I never knew. Goody Miller called me a changelin' child oncet, so I jus' figured I were elf-kin when I were smaller. _She frowned up at the woman following her. _I ain't, o' course. Me Ma was taken by two footpads, an' one had th' sirin' o' me, or so th' gossips say when they think I ain't listenin'. Tha's why she don't love me none, but it ain't her fault. She ain't been completely right in th' head since, they say._

Jashana felt a surge of pity for the child, though the youngster made the statement matter-of-factly enough, as if it mattered little to her whether she had a mother's love or not.

_I hope you're not afraid of Deryni,_ Jashana Mind-Spoke. _There are a few bad ones in the lot, but most are good folk, just like humans are._

_I ain't never met one afore, so I don't s'pose it matters t' me one way or t'other if folks is Deryni or not, but why did ye lie t' me Ma?_

Jashana pondered the question, wondering if she dared give this child an honest answer or not. She decided she could hardly do otherwise, with the girl Truth-Reading her, yet knowing how much of the truth to admit was difficult. Cass couldn't be much over ten years of age, and Jashana was tempted to give as evasive an answer as possible under the circumstances, but on the other hand, her life was far less sheltered than that of most maidens Jashana knew who had only a decade of life. And it was clear she'd heard the rumors of her own origins, so there was little need to shelter her from those harsh realities.

_Your mother was harmed a long time ago, and I have reason to believe the men who did that to her—or at least one of them—was Deryni. One of those bad few that I mentioned. And recently, something similar has been happening to other women. I believe there might be a connection between those events, and that if they were looked into more closely, we might be able to find out who is doing these things and prevent them from happening to other women. But to learn what I need to know, I need to be able to see what your mother remembers of that night—to see her memories with my own mind. _She studied the young child before her. _I know your mother doesn't like to speak of what happened to her, or even to remember it, though I suspect she's unable to forget, and that's why she has changed so much from the woman that others say she used to be. Once I've seen her memories, I'd also like to help her forget at least the worst bits of what happened. I think if she could forget, her heart might start to heal. Would you be willing to help me with that?_

_ Ye won't hurt 'er?_ Ice blue eyes studied Jashana solemnly as the girl Truth-Read her.

_I won't hurt her. If I can do it while she's asleep, she needn't even know I did a thing. If anything, hopefully I can help ease her fears and torment to the point that she can start to get better again._

Cass considered Jashana's word a long moment. Finally she nodded. _I'll set a candle in th' window t'night when she's asleep, an' put up Blackie so's 'e won't bite ye if ye come in. But I want t' watch what ye do. She's me Ma._

_ Agreed._ Jashana studied the child a trifle sadly, wondering what would become of her, unwanted waif that she was, and an untrained Deryni to boot. _There's a school for Deryni now at St. Hilary's Basilica, inside the walls of Rhemuth Castle. I could put in a word on your behalf if you'd like to learn how to use your powers, and if your mother will allow you to attend._

Cass shrugged, looking a bit wistful. _Depends on if Ma can spare me. An' I don't know if she'd be scared o' th' Deryni learnin' or not. She ain't never said nothin' against Deryni that I know of, but she ain't never known I'm one either, I don't s'pose. She'd no' want me bein' anythin' like me father was, though. Me real father, tha' is, no' Bill Draper._

Jashana nodded in understanding. _There'd be less of a chance of that, I should think, if you were properly trained. An important part of Deryni training is in how to use your powers responsibly. I could try to plant the suggestion of sending you to school in your mother's mind, if you'd like. Not all the students who go to the Schola are Deryni, so she needn't even know your secret. Can you read?_

_ I have a little reading, an' some writin', an' some sums. Enough t' help wi' th' shop._

_ That's a start. _The two paused at the end of Dyers Lane. _Until tonight, then?_

Cass nodded. _Aye, mistress._

Jashana slipped the child an extra farthing for her efforts, and took her leave.


	17. Part Sixteen

**Part Sixteen—Family Machinations**

_ May 1, 1133_

_ Tre-Arilan_

"So, they _are_ planning on being here, then?" Jashana Arilan asked her brothers.

Seisyll nodded in satisfaction. "I made sure to extend the invitation to Walter in front of several witnesses, including Kelson himself. There was little way he could graciously back out."

Sextus grinned. "I imagine he was cursing you in his mind the entire time he was smiling to your face."

"Oh, you've gotten that impression from him too?" Seisyll's grin matched his brother's briefly, but it soon faded as they considered the opportunity that had presented itself. "All right, so we're guaranteed Walter's presence, and with the King aware of the invitation, we're guaranteed Javana's as well. I'll lay odds that he'll be as inseparable from her as ever during their brief visit—and as usual, it _will_ be as brief as he can manage to get by with—but that's going to be the only chance we'll have to get her alone."

"But how? Drug Walter in front of God and everybody?" Sextus folded his arms, looking challengingly at his older brother. "I agree it's the best opportunity we're likely to have in some time, but we can't just hope for the right moment to arise. We need to create one."

"I agree," Seisyll said. "Which is why I propose that we make our move when the ladies head upstairs after the wedding feast. Walter will have little choice but to allow Javana to go upstairs with the rest of the ladies—he can hardly do otherwise, after all, without drawing undue attention to himself—and that will provide us with the opportunity to get to her without him knowing about it."

Jashana raised an eyebrow at her eldest brother. "Oh? How do you plan to accomplish that...dress Sextus up as a woman?" She smiled at her younger brother as he choked back a laugh.

"Should I shave?" Sextus joked with a grin back at Jashana.

"Jesú, he'd be a spectacularly awful woman!" Seisyll retorted with a brief indulgent smile at his sister. "No, obviously we wouldn't be able to go upstairs at that time without calling attention to ourselves. I was thinking you might find some way to get alone with Javana. It shouldn't take more than a few moments to determine what we need to know, after all. Can you do it?"

Jashana stared at her elder brother incredulously. "You must be joking, Seisyll! Oh, certainly, I'd be willing to try if I have to, but have you forgotten I'm going to be the _bride_?! How am I supposed to surreptitiously Mind-See our sister—assuming she's willing and able to lower her shields for me, which given what we suspect, we _can't_ assume—while I'm the center of everyone's attention?"

"No, I meant..." Seisyll rubbed at the bridge of his nose. "All right, that was badly explained, I suppose. What I meant was, couldn't you ask for a few moments alone with your sister before the ladies prepare you for bed? Surely you can come up with some pretext—you want your sister's blessing, or you need a few minutes to pray..._something_..."

Jashana chortled. "Seisyll, my dear brother, I'm as devout as the next woman, but you've seen my husband-to-be, yes? Do you think any woman at my wedding is going to believe I'm going to want to delay my wedding night with the utterly delectable Mihall of Llyr any longer than absolutely necessary because I've had a sudden urge to _pray_? I'd definitely need a better excuse than that!"

"You might pray your Mihall has the energy to keep up," Sextus suggested, earning a laugh and a kick under the table from his sister. Growing more serious, he turned to Seisyll and added, "Actually, Seis, I'm not sure that approach is going to work. If Walter has Javana under the controls we suspect he does, he's probably set them to put Javana on guard against any move that any of _us_ would make towards unlocking his secrets. No, it would be better if someone could approach Javana who Walter would never suspect."

Seisyll pondered that thought. "I agree that would be the ideal option, if we had someone else we could trust with the job, but we don't. Sophie would be the only other woman we might ask, but she's not trained for this sort of work. I don't know that she could carry out the job without giving something away; she's too guileless."

"What about Lisette?" Jashana suggested. "I doubt Walter would suspect her. She's not all that open about her Deryni heritage, after all, plus her deafness tends to make people who don't know her well underestimate her abilities and her powers of observation. She may not be able to hear speech, but that only makes others more likely to say things in front of her that they'd not dream of saying if they thought she could hear them, and there's nothing at all wrong with her lip-reading skills. I'll wager that if Walter has given her any thought at all, it's only been as Javana's distant cousin—if he even knows of that connection—or as Sophie's sister-in-law. And I'm sure if we explained the situation to her, she'd be quite willing to help out. She and Javana were close once."

Seisyll and Sextus exchanged glances. "Well, yes, as children they were," Seisyll ventured. "Is Lisette aware of Stefan's former...attachment to Javana, though?"

Jashana shrugged. "I don't know. But even if she is, you surely don't think she'd balk at helping Javana if there is any chance Javana is in the thrall of a man like Walter, given what we suspect about him now? Lisette loves Stefan, but surely she's aware he was hardly a monk before their marriage, and I can't imagine she'd be so petty as to refuse to help Javana, even if there _is_ some jealousy there we're not aware of." She sighed. "Would it hurt to ask for her help?"

"It might hurt _her_," Sextus warned. "If Walter ever finds out about our countermeasures, and suspects Lisette's involvement. _You_ know what he's capable of."

Jashana knew the risks indeed. She thought back to what she had gleaned from Kate Draper's mind the previous autumn—the horror story she'd uncovered of the brutality Kate had endured at the hands of two men, a darker haired one in particular. From that reading, Jashana had learned that Kate's memories of the attack were almost completely intact—whether deliberately or due to the night watch's sudden interruption, Jashana couldn't tell—aside from the identities of the assailants in question. All identifying features had been carefully if quickly blurred from Kate's memories, leaving Jashana with few clues with which to trace their identities. Yet Jashana had learned a few things—the direction in which the two men had made their escape, the colors they'd been wearing that night, even the smells Kate remembered.

One of the attackers—the Deryni who had tampered with Kate's memories—had smelled faintly of bay and lime, probably from a fragrant soap or sachet used to freshen his clothing. It was not an uncommon combination of scents in some areas of the Kingdom where limes were more prevalent, though it was an unlikely fragrance for a Rhemuth commoner, nor did the man's demeanor bespeak common birth. No, Jashana's gut told her he was likely a nobleman, or at least in a nobleman's retinue, and possibly from one of the eastern regions of the Kingdom. The two men had also fled eastward from the scene of their crime.

Jashana knew of at least one nobleman whose preferred fragrance was bay and lime, and whose Rhemuth lodging happened to be along that very route—her brother-in-law Walter. And although neither man in Kate's memories wore the red dragon of Caerdraig, both were wearing the red and black of Walter's baronial colors.

There were, of course, many men who favored those colors. But the coincidences had raised enough suspicion for Sextus to pursue the matter further, spending the next few months traveling through the Kingdom along the route from Rhemuth to the Kheldish Riding, asking questions and listening to answers and learning of similar attacks along the way. The evidence continued to build, until Seisyll was convinced they had enough to present a solid case against Walter to Kelson.

There was only one problem which prevented them from doing so. Would Walter's Baroness be found complicit in his crimes? Seisyll was unwilling to take the risk. He was certain Javana could not be wholly ignorant of what Walter was doing—not after so many years of marriage to him. She was far too astute for Walter to hide his actions from her for long. And she _had_ given them warning of his activities several years earlier, oblique though that warning was. So why hadn't she fled him before now or sought their help more overtly? Seisyll was convinced his sister was being coerced into silence, but before they could present this theory to the King, he wanted proof. He needed to be able to show Kelson something that would allow him to stop Walter without implicating Javana in her husband's crimes, so he had turned to his brother and sister for help with formulating a workable plan for finding out what sort of hold Walter had on his wife to ensure her silence and inaction.

Lisette's Mind-Seeing of Javana might provide proof of her innocence, if she could help them. If she would _agree_ to help them. And if Walter didn't discover her involvement and silence her forever first.

Jashana prayed they were doing the right thing. "I know what Walter would do, if he found out. And I'll make sure Lisette understands the risks. But we _have_ to know, and this is the only way I can see to find out."

#

_ May 6, 1133_

_ Tre-Arilan_

Javana Arilan de Branigan watched as her sister exchanged vows of holy matrimony with the High Lord of Llyr, her tightly shielded feelings a mixture of cautious hope for Jashana's happiness and bitter envy. Not that she envied her sister for her new rank—God knows marrying into a title hadn't helped Javana one whit!—but she envied the joy she saw reflected on the new couple's faces as Jashana turned her lips up to her new husband for her first kiss as a newlywed bride. Michael of Llyr said something too quiet for the onlookers to hear, his grin flashing down at his new wife, who laughed up at him with a sparkle in her blue-violet eyes. Javana turned away. She was glad for her sister, but witnessing so much happiness was difficult for her to bear.

Beside her, a slight smile lurking on his lips as if he were aware of her every thought, her own lord Walter gave her hand a light squeeze, looking for all the world like a fondly solicitous husband. Bastard!

The chapel bells pealed in celebration. Bishop Denis, visiting his boyhood home to officiate over his younger niece's wedding, led the new couple and their wedding guest into the chapel for the nuptial Mass.

#

There was definitely something wrong with cousin Javana, and now that Jashana had explained the Arilans' suspicions about Walter to her, Lisette was determined to discover what it was. She sent her children off to play with their Arilan cousins, Stefania assisting the nursemaids in herding the unruly young lot off to a nearby chamber where they could unleash their energies while the adults mingled during the post-nuptial feast and celebrations. Not that Steffie was the oldest child present—Oliver, her husband's young half-brother born to his stepmother Alienora, but now adopted as their own since that woman's death the previous summer from the fever-flux, held that honor—but Steffie commanded as if born to a generalship. Lisette suppressed a grin. It was that strong-willed Arilan streak coming to the fore, she supposed. Not for the first time, she felt a surge of sympathy for her quiet young sister-in-law Sophie.

Jashana, seated at the High Table between her brother Seisyll and her new husband, laughed with a slight blush as Sextus led the Hall in a ribald toast to the newlyweds. Michael of Llyr leaned over to whisper something in her ear, causing the rosy glow to deepen. Lisette glanced at her husband, seated by her side. She'd been about to say that she thought it would be time to escort the couple upstairs to the bridal chamber soon, but he was looking elsewhere, his gaze fastened on someone across the room from them, a slight frown on his handsome features. His eyes looked sad.

Lisette turned to see what Stefan was looking at. He seemed to be concerned about Javana as well, which brought Lisette back to her original thoughts. She would need to situate herself so she would be standing closest to her Arilan cousin when the ladies went up to escort Jashana to the bridal bed. She had a sudden qualm, wondering if Javana would be allowed to participate in the bridal preparations. Surely her lord husband would allow her out of his sight long enough for that, at least! There was something about Baron Walter's attentiveness to Javana that made Lisette's skin crawl. Nothing she could point to outwardly, but something about his manner just seemed overly proprietary. At first she had thought she was merely imagining it, but Sophie had also privately commented on it the last time they'd seen Javana, during Jamyl's christening feast, and now that Jashana had told her a few of the suspicious that she and her brothers had about Walter, she was even more aware of the oddness of his behavior in retrospect.

Jamyl was three years old now. It had been just over three years since Javana last set foot on Tre-Arilan soil. There was something wrong with that. Even though they lived the full distance of the Kingdom away, Lisette knew Walter surely had to have returned to Rhemuth at least a few weeks of every year since that time. Surely he must have brought Javana with him at least once, and if Javana had travelled as far as Rhemuth, how hard could it have been to add the short ride west from there to Tre-Arilan? Even if Walter couldn't have spared her for long, she could have paid her family home a short visit and been back to Rhemuth in less than a day, if need be. Even she and Stefan had managed more frequent visits to Tre-Arilan than that, despite living on the far side of Nyford, and while traveling from Tre-Arilan to Kestrel Mote was a little more difficult for Sophie—there wasn't the ready excuse of "it's just a stone's throw from Rhemuth" to take advantage of—she'd managed several trips to see her childhood home as well over the years since her marriage to Seisyll.

Sophie, after a whispered conference with Queen Araxie, who was here representing the Crown of Gwynedd as this was not merely an Arilan family celebration but the marriage of a allied nation's High Lord as well, was rising from her seat at the High Table—the signal to the ladies present that it was time to escort the blushing bride to bed. Lisette stood, flashing a quick smile at Stefan before crossing the Great Hall to join the other ladies, making sure as they went up the stairs that she ended up close by Javana's side. They entered the bridal bedchamber together, Lisette following as Javana moved to one side of the chamber to make room for the other women entering close behind them.

#

Javana watched as Sophie laid out the sheer nightrail that she had prepared for Jashana's wedding night. Jashana traced the delicate fabric with her finger, then made a comment to Sophie too low for Javana to hear. Whatever it was, it turned Sophie's cheeks scarlet, though she laughed in response.

Javana forced a smile to her lips, although the scene brought back unwanted memories of her own wedding night, and her own anticipation turning slowly to confusion and horror after her wedding guests had departed, leaving her at Walter's mercy. She wanted to scream, but she could not. She was a prisoner locked away in her own mind.

She felt a hand touch her shoulder and turned to see Lisette, her arm draped around Javana's shoulders, asking in quiet concern, "Are you unwell, cousin?" Javana opened her mouth to assure her she was fine—although she desperately wanted to say otherwise—when she felt a slight scratch under Lisette's hand. Her head turned, some detached part of her awareness registering the ring Lisette wore on her finger—not the wedding band Stefan had given her, but another ring Javana vaguely recognized—and then the room began to spin slowly around her.

"No," she heard herself saying, her voice filled with something akin to wonder. "I think I might be about to faint." The world faded to black then. Javana's last conscious memory was of her cousin's arms catching her and lowering her gently to the floor.

#

Sophie gazed in horror as her sister-in-law fell into a sudden swoon. "Javana?!"

Jashana smiled faintly at Lisette for a job well done, although her cousin was far too busy at that moment to notice. "It is rather close in here, with so many women packed into the chamber." She glanced at Sophie's maidservant. "Annie, would you please open the shutters and let in some cooler air?"

"Yes," Sophie said, regaining her equilibrium and taking charge of the situation. "Everyone move back and let Javana have some room to breathe. Poor dear, she's standing closest to the hearth, and it's such a warm evening for late spring; no wonder she succumbed!" She crossed the room to kneel by Lisette, who sat cradling Javana's head in her lap. "Will she be all right?" Sophie whispered. "She didn't hit her head on the way down, did she? I could call for our physician..."

Javana started to stir in Lisette's arms even as Jashana came forward to hold a perfumed handkerchief under her sister's nose. "I think she'll be fine," Lisette assured her. "I caught her before she hit the ground. Maybe we should just find her a stool to sit on until she's feeling her full self again?"

Queen Araxie drew a small bench from the corner of the room, positioning it next to Sophie, who assisted Javana to a sitting position once she'd opened her eyes. "How do you feel?" Sophie asked.

Javana looked around at the gathered ladies. "What happened?" she asked, her voice slightly slurred.

"You passed out," Jashana informed her. "It was fairly warm up here until we opened the windows." She gave Javana the handkerchief. "Why don't you have a seat until you're feeling yourself again. Lisette, would you mind keeping an eye on her?" _That went well enough. Did you have enough time?_ she added in Mind-Speech to her cousin.

"Of course," Lisette replied, smiling down at Javana. _Barely, but I think I've got the proof Seisyll needs. Thank you! s_he sent back to Jashana.

"All right, then, now that that's settled, I have an eager bridegroom waiting downstairs," Jashana joked, recalling everyone's minds to their purpose for coming upstairs. "Let's not keep him waiting any longer than he has to."

"You mean, let's not keep _you_ waiting any longer than you have to," Queen Araxie corrected with a grin.

"Yes, that too!" Jashana picked up the delicate nightrail. "Really, Sophie, you've put _so_ much work into this gown. Do you honestly think I'll be wearing it for more than the few heartbeats it will take for Uncle Denis to run you lot out the door?"

#

_ May 7_

_ Rhemuth Castle, the King's private chambers_

Kelson paced the room, pondering the evidence Seisyll and Sextus brought him, both in their verbal reports and in the memories they shared with him so he could see for himself the facts they'd uncovered in their investigation of Caerdraig's baron. "This could set back Deryni/human relations by a hundred years, you know, if word gets out that we have a rogue Deryni using his powers to rape women and commit random murders throughout the Kingdom. And if it's discovered that the rogue is one of my own barons..."

"Oh, yes, we're well aware of the implications, which is why we wanted to be certain of what was happening before bringing the matter to your attention. Do you agree, Sire, that we can't afford the notoriety of a formal Court trial and presentation of evidence, nor of a public execution?"

Kelson leaned his head against a windowpane, staring out towards the City. "No, we can't. Not under these circumstances. On the other hand, if I send you out to deal with him privately, and _that _somehow gets discovered, some folk would seize on that as proof of a Deryni cover-up."

Sextus snorted. "It _is_ a Deryni cover-up, Sire, but given the circumstances, what else _can_ we do? Hand it over to the Camberian Council to handle?" He quirked a wry smile at his sovereign. "Am I correct in guessing you'd rather shove red-hot pokers up your arse sideways then call _them_ in to deal with the situation?"

"A more picturesque alternative than _I _ever would have dreamed up, but basically yes," Kelson affirmed with a faint chuckle. "We can fall back on that resource if we absolutely must, but I'd much rather handle this on our own. The Council has a habit of…shall we say, wanting to do favors with strings attached, and I want to remain as little indebted to them as possible. They're still trying to talk me into a Council seat as a bit of _quid pro quo_ since I called on their help for the weather-working ritual against the fever-flux plague last September. And as far as I've heard, they've yet to find Teymuraz, for all that you'd think a Grand-Duke of Byzantyun shouldn't be all _that_ difficult to track down. All of which reminds me, does your Uncle Denis know about this yet?"

"Not yet," Seisyll answered.

Kelson stared out the window a long moment. "Let's keep it that way for now," he said finally, "though if you feel the need to tell him afterwards, you may." He turned to Sextus. "You might need to, by then," he added, a hint of apology in his gray eyes.

Sextus caught on immediately. "When I go to him for confession and absolution?" he asked quietly.

Kelson nodded. "Handle Walter as quietly as possible. I can't spare Seisyll to help you; his absence from Rhemuth would be too much remarked upon, especially if anyone were to see him in the vicinity of the Riding around the time Baron Walter is reported missing or dead. Is there someone else you can trust to help you in this mission? After what happened to Sir Ethan, I'd hesitate to send you in alone. Given what you'll be up against, you'll need someone to back you up who has adequate defenses against Walter's powers when you confront him." He went through his mental list of known Deryni who weren't too well known to send on such a mission. It was a distressingly short list. "What about Sir Stefan de Varnay?" Kelson finally suggested.

The Arilan brothers exchanged a glance. "He's Deryni, but not formally trained," Seisyll said slowly. "Lisette has brought him fairly well up to speed since their marriage, but we don't know Walter's capabilities. We don't _think_ Walter's had formal training, but we can't very well ask him."

"Stefan may not be the ideal choice," Kelson agreed, "but he may be the best choice we have at our disposal. Do you have any reason to believe he can't be trusted with this knowledge?"

Another shared glance. Seisyll sighed. "No, my Prince. It's just that I've already sent a brother-to-be to his death in pursuit of this killer. If my wife's brother also dies as a result of this investigation, I might be spending the rest of my nights sleeping on a pallet outside your chamber door."

"Then let's not have that happen." Kelson closed his eyes briefly. "And if your part in Walter's eventual fate should come to light, have you come up with a plausible reason for that?"

Seisyll nodded. "A private matter of vengeance, Sire. Retribution for the abuses Javana suffered at her husband's hands. No need to mention the exact nature of the abuses." A wry smile. "Of course, we'd have to throw ourselves on your Royal mercy and beg for forgiveness, and doubtless we'd fall out of favor for quite some time as an example to others, assuming you don't simply toss us into the Keep for taking justice into our own hands or string us up at one of the City gates for murdering one of your barons."

"Given that I would certainly Truth-Read you both in the event of such a trial, not to mention that I'd know exactly what questions to ask, I think I might manage to find enough evidence to show leniency," Kelson assured him with a wry smile of his own. "But _don't _make that necessary." The King sighed. "All right, you two have leave to go. I wish to see Lady Lisette separately. It's not that I don't trust your avowals of your sister's innocence, but you _do_ have a vested interest in trying to convince me of that conclusion."

The brothers bowed. "Of course, Sire," Seisyll answered. The two of them withdrew. In the antechamber, Lisette sat beside Queen Araxie, who stood as the men entered the room. She acknowledged their bows to her with a faint smile and courteous nod. "Come, my dear, I believe Kelson is ready for us," the Queen said to Lisette, leading the way into Kelson's inner chamber.

#

Kelson sat quietly, absorbing the information he had gleaned from Lisette's quick sharing of what she'd discovered in Javana's mind. "And how long has she been living in that nightmare?" he asked her finally.

"Seven years, Your Majesty, come the twentieth of this month," Lisette answered quietly.

The King studied the woman before him. "I may need to call upon your husband to assist in bringing Baron Walter to justice," he told her. "If I do, you will not be at liberty to say where he has gone, or why. I hope you can understand the need for extreme discretion. Also, tell no one else of what you know about this matter."

"My lord husband and I are both at your command, my Prince," Lisette answered with a low curtsey.

"You know Stefan's Deryni capabilities better than anyone, my Lady. Is he up to this?" Kelson's eyes searched Lisette's face.

She searched her soul, her worries for her husband's safety warring with her desire to give the King an honest answer. "He is as well trained now as most Deryni in Gwynedd, perhaps better than most who haven't had the benefit of formal training. As to whether that will be sufficient for the task, there is no way for me to say. I know nothing of Walter's training."

Kelson nodded. "Nor, unfortunately, do I."

#

_ May 15_

_ Kestrel Mote_

Sir Stefan de Varnay bent to kiss his six year old heir's brow as he tucked the boy into bed for the night. "Good night, birthday boy!"

Ranulf threw his arms around his father's neck. "Good night, Papa!" A frown creased his smooth brow. "Mama said you have to go on a journey tomorrow. Will you be gone long?"

Stefan considered the question, not knowing quite how to answer. "I hope not," he finally replied. "I'll return just as soon as I may. Be a good lad while I'm gone, and help your mother."

Little Ran nodded. "Ollie will help too. Liesel's too little yet."

His papa tousled his hair. "She is. But you're right, you and Oliver can both help, can't you, Ollie?" He smiled at his half-brother, Alienora's son, who nodded shyly back. Stefan leaned further forward to give the lad a reassuring pat. Little Ollie still shied away from embraces, though in the months since he had come to live with his new family, he had at least lost his terror of his new surroundings and have come to accept his life here at Kestrel Mote. He had not yet discovered that his new family was of the Deryni race that he'd been raised to fear. Stefan and Lisette had not yet come to an agreement about the best way and time to break that news to the boy.

Stefan stood, walking to the other pallet to kiss his daughter, already sound asleep. He pulled her thumb out of her mouth, stroking the hair away from her face, and turned to leave.

"We'll pray for you every night, Papa!" Ran assured him.

Stefan smiled. "Thank you, son." He closed the door softly, a shadow crossing his features as he slowly made his way down the corridor to the bedchamber where Lisette awaited his arrival.

#

Stefan stared out the window at the moonlight silvering the fields beyond the manor house. _Lisette, there's something you need to know. When Seisyll started to brief me on this mission, I volunteered to go even before I knew Kelson had already planned on sending me._ He turned to look at his wife. _I owe Javana a debt of honor._

Lisette turned troubled gold-amber eyes up at her husband. _I've noticed you've avoided her as much as possible the few times we've seen her since our marriage, but I don't know why._

Stefan looked away briefly, then met his wife's eyes, moving to sit beside her. _I...offered for her once. I didn't realize that Seisyll never received my letter offering for her until the subject came up again a few nights ago._

_ When he was briefing you? _Lisette shielded her turbulent emotions as she absorbed this information.

_Yes. _Stefan took her hand in his. _Lisette, I love you. You know that, I hope? I know I probably haven't said it enough, but I do._

She looked down at their joined hands, not daring to look up at her husband's face. _I know. But...you loved Javana once. Didn't you?_

Stefan sighed. _I thought I did. I suppose it was fledgling love, as much as I was capable of at the time. I wasn't truly ready for a wife yet—was certainly not in any position to make the offer—but...she caught my eye for a while. _He squeezed Lisette's hand. _What attachment existed between us was over before I ever met you._

_ A meeting Seisyll conveniently arranged? _Lisette reminded him, a small amount of her hurt leaking out in her strained smile.

_That wasn't to keep me away from her, love. Javana was already betrothed to Baron Walter before then. _

Lisette pondered this. _Why do you owe Javana a debt of honor?_

Stefan sat in silence for a moment, trying to figure out how to answer honestly without further hurt to this woman he had come to love since their marriage seven years earlier. _I have reason to believe if Seisyll hadn't been trying to keep Javana from making the mistake of marrying me, he might not have steered her towards Walter. Walter offered everything I was unable to give her, and I..." _He shrugged. _Even if I hadn't been impoverished, I was still quite irresponsible. And...too careless and too much of a wastrel at the time to be trusted with his sister's virtue._

Lisette looked up sharply at that. _You didn't compromise her, did you?_

Stefan sighed. _Not in the way you fear. But...yes, I endangered her reputation. Fortunately no one discovered our liaison besides Seisyll. It could have been far worse. _Stefan stood and walked back to the window, staring out towards distant Rhemuth. _I need to make amends for that, and for my part in the circumstances that led up to her hell of a marriage with that bastard Walter. But it's no more than that, Lisette. I care for Javana, but I'm not in love with her. _He turned to face his wife. _You are my heart now. Read the truth in my words, if you must._

His wife shook her head slowly, her eyes brimming with tears over a trembling smile. _I have no need to Truth-Read you, my lord. You've never played me false, and I have no reason to believe you'd do so now._

Stefan took a deep, relieved breath as he returned to his wife's side, drawing her into his embrace and opening his mind to hers, showing his love for her in ways that transcended mere words.


	18. Part Seventeen

**Part Seventeen—Trial By Combat**

_May 19, 1133_

_Barony of Caerdraig, just above the village_

Sir Stefan de Varnay shaded his eyes from the sun, peering up at the gleaming edifice on the mountaintop high above. "Somehow I suspect simply walking up to the portcullis and announcing ourselves to the Baronial Guard would be a bad idea." He glanced over at Sextus's disguise. "Even though Walter would have a great deal of trouble recognizing us right now."

Sextus grinned at Stefan's dry jest. "Let's hope he doesn't, but walking up to the Castle in hopes of being granted an audience wouldn't be my preferred option." He handed the other knight some of the rustic fare they'd picked up in the village below—thick slices of bacon held between buttered bread. "Here; since we're trying to pass as miners, let's see how the village folk eat." Sextus took a large bite of his own noonday meal. "Jesú, these are good!"

Stefan glanced away from the Castle long enough to take the offered food. "It looks good. I'm hungry enough to eat my horse, if we'd brought him." He took a bite. "What _is_ this?"

"The barmaid called it a butty." Sextus unwrapped a block of cheese, slicing off a few pieces for himself and his companion before rewrapping it carefully and putting it back in his travel pouch.

"Too bad we can't enjoy this with decent ale; for rustic food, it's really not half bad," Stefan remarked, washing his mouthful down with a swig of small beer from his flask. "Though walking in on Baron Walter half-impaired wouldn't be the best of ideas."

"I don't intend us to walk in on Walter at all," Sextus assured him.

Stefan leaned back against a tree. "All right, I've certainly no complaint. We draw him out here, then?"

The younger man considered the fortifications of the castle above them. "Yes. Outside and, if we can manage it, alone." He sent Stefan a mental picture of a forest clearing they had explored the day before. "There, or as close to there as possible."

Stefan's brow rose. "The abandoned mining slope? Well, it's certainly isolated enough. Far enough away from the present mining operations to keep any outcries from being heard, I should think, assuming anyone can hear a distant noise above the constant ring and scrape of pickaxes and shovels. Is that why you chose it?"

Sextus shrugged, taking another bite of his butty before answering. "Yes, that and there's an old mine shaft there, one of the vertical sort. It's been covered, of course, but the covering is wooden and mostly rotten away. I doubt it would support a man's weight anymore, especially if I coax open the rusty latch holding the halves together and jimmy the hinges a bit."

Stefan took a swig of his small beer and favored Sextus with an ironic half-smile. "Has the baron been negligent with his mine maintenance, then? Careless of him. A man could die."

"That _is_ the general idea." Sextus took a bite of cheese. "His body will eventually be found, of course, but from what I've gathered from the other miners, that pit was abandoned due to poisonous miasmas. Still, if we can stage it right, the broken shaft cover should provide a clue to his body's whereabouts in due time, once his disappearance is noticed and a search party is sent out. It won't arrive in time to save him, of course, especially if he dies in the fall and not due to the lack of breathable air."

Stefan noted the dispassionate tone in his sister's brother-in-law's voice and suppressed a shiver, glad he was not on the receiving end of the Arilan family's ire. Maybe he'd come closer to death than he'd ever suspected, trifling with Javana all those years earlier. "How often do you do this sort of thing?" he asked.

Sextus turned to him, the hardness in his features softening slightly at the look in the other man's eyes. "Lay traps for men? It's required on occasion. Kill them? Only _very_ rarely, unless I absolutely must in order to survive or to protect others. I'm no Walter; put your mind to rest over that. I'm a simple knight in Kelson's service, just as you are; I'm simply called to serve in less well known battles at times. Battles that will never appear in any scribe's histories…let's hope!"

Stefan nodded, finishing off his meal, and took another swig of his small beer before replacing the flask on his belt. "You know, even in the heat of battle, Walter might not be so distracted as to have forgotten he's got an abandoned mine shaft out here somewhere. It will be dark, but there'll be enough moonlight for him to see where the pit cover is well enough. If you're going to have to tamper with the hinges anyway, what do you think about moving the entire cover and frame a few feet to one side, and then covering the shaft with some canvas or burlap and a thin layer of soil? We may not even have to conceal it at all, since the darkness of the pit opening should blend in nicely with the surrounding earth." He thought back to the site in question. "Unlike the active mine sites, the canopy covering that shaft was removed quite a while back, probably to be rebuilt elsewhere. The post holes still remain, but I doubt he'd notice those in the dark either. We can go back there tonight and see how well they show up, and if they'd need to be concealed, but my thought is that if we can get Walter to back up straight into the pit himself during the fight, we can just pop the cover back over him afterwards, sufficiently broken up to make it look like he fell in on his own."

Sextus laughed, flashing him an approving grin. "You know, you might develop a talent for this sort of thing after all! Except that I was hoping to take him alive. It would be handy to be able to question him before he obliges us by dying."

"Well, that's going to be much harder. How do you propose we do that?" Stefan asked.

"Merasha dart." Sextus gave his companion a sympathetic smile as Stefan grew slightly pale at the thought. "If you can lure Walter close enough to me so that I can catch him unaware, the merasha will incapacitate him enough that we can safely find out what we need to know from him before he goes down the shaft. Do you think you can do that?

Stefan thought about the plan a long moment, then nodded. "I think so. But now another question arises. How do we draw the Dragon of Caerdraig from his lair without drawing his suspicion?"

Sextus sighed. "That's the trick, isn't it? I doubt we can, at least not unless you can think of a better plan than mine. But I think I've figured out a way to get him out here, suspicious or not, without bringing any others with him, which will have to suffice. He'll only be expecting one man to meet him, so since there'll be two, we'll still have some small advantage of surprise in our favor." He ate the last of his food. "Hopefully that will be enough." Walter's brother-in-law leaned back, staring at the castle walls on the slope above them. "I'm thinking a message ought to do the trick. Something hinting at just enough details of Walter's past activities to be suitably incriminating, with the implication that the tale need go no further if the Baron were willing to leave sufficient payment at the abandoned mine on the North Slope…." Sextus looked thoughtful. "I wonder how many gold sovereigns I should suggest as a suitable reward to buy my silence? I don't want to ask for more than a baron could reasonably afford, but I also don't want to ask for too much less than he'd think his life is worth. If you were planning to blackmail a baron, what would you ask for?"

Stefan chuckled grimly. "I'm sure you don't think he'll arrive ready to bribe you into silence."

"No, of course not." Sextus smiled grimly. "He'll arrive ready to skewer the interfering upstart with cold steel! I'm just asking in the interests of making sure the message sounds like a credible enough threat that it needs to be dealt with, and that the nature of the secrets I'm threatening to disclose is such that he'll want to deal with the threat by himself rather than sending someone else to do away with me. But he'll hopefully not be expecting to encounter a Deryni opponent, much less two of us, and with any luck we'll be aware of his arrival before he's aware of our presence." Sextus shared a brief vision of a spot at the edge of the clearing where the two men could observe the most likely routes of approach from Caerdraig Castle to the abandoned mine.

"All right." Stefan frowned in thought. "So, we'll need to acquire parchment and ink…."

Sextus shook his head. "No."

"No?"

The younger knight smiled. "You're not thinking like a blackmailer, Stefan, much less a rustic. Rustics don't have deep pouches. They'll not splurge on pricy parchment for a message that's likely to be destroyed immediately after it's read. And they'd hope it _would_ be destroyed quickly and easily; they wouldn't want it being traced back to them, after all! No, most likely such demands, especially if made by common folk, would be delivered on cheap wax tablets, easily erased by the recipient." Sextus paused, looking thoughtful. "Though perhaps I'll make mention of records kept on parchment and in a safe location ready to be delivered to the King at first light if the Baron doesn't show up with the specified amount by nightfall. That would be a believable twist, I think. It would ensure Walter takes the message to heart, and I can imagine that even the poorest of commoners, if he had a secret so important, might save up the extra coin needed to purchase more durable writing materials for the purpose. Not that the most truly impoverished villeins would be able to write it, but certainly one of the more educated villagers would, and they'd be the most likely sort to be able to piece enough evidence together to hang Walter." He cocked his head, giving the message a bit of thought. "I'll have to be careful not to come across as _too_ well-educated. Spelling should be a bit hit-and-miss, the grammar more Kheldish than standard..."

Stefan laughed. "You truly get into the role, don't you?"

"I have to. I quite enjoy staying alive." Sextus slanted a wry grin at his companion. "It's a high stakes game we play, and you have to stay aware of even the slightest details that might trip you up."

"So I see." Stefan studied Sextus with a faint smile. "I think I might have made the mistake of underestimating you."

A modest shrug. "Most folk do."

"I shan't do so in future, I assure you."

"I can't always be about the wenching and winebibbing," Sextus joked.

"So, shall I slip down to the village and see if I can acquire a set of writing tablets that will suit?"

Sextus snorted. "I think not. No, I'll pick some up in a bit. You still walk too much like a knight, even if you _are_ wearing half a lifetime's worth of rock dust and Caerdraig soil on those ratty clothes. Try stooping a bit more, and acting a bit less like you've got ploughmen and manservants to do all your hard labor for you, if you mean to pass for a mining man and not simply a nobleman down on his luck who enjoys a good wallow."

"I think after this, I'll leave the fact-finding and sensitive missions to you Arilans from now on," Stefan teased. "It's too much like hard work, being a commoner, even a fake one."

Sextus shot Stefan a knowing grin. "Oh, aye. Who's the lazy wastrel now, hm?"

#

_ Caerdraig Castle_

_ May 20, early evening_

The Dragon of Caerdraig roared with rage. Javana looked up from her loom, her usual feigned indifference to Walter shattering as she dropped the shuttle from trembling fingers, unable to conceal her alarm. Walter leaped up from his chair, pacing up and down the length of the solar, his large fists clenching and unclenching, unmindful of the message he still held in one hand. One of the thin waxed tablets in the small volume splintered within his grip, little black flakes of wax cascading to the floor. The pain of broken wood embedded in his palm recalled him to his senses again. He stared dully at the injured hand for a short moment, then gave an inarticulate snarl, casting the rest of the tablets into the fireplace. The flames burned more brightly as they licked at the thin wax-coated pages, destroying what was left of the blackmail demand in less than a handful of heartbeats.

"What's wrong?" Javana asked, in control of her feelings again and masking the surge of elation that had come with the realization that, no matter what news the message had held, anything that could cause such fury in her husband was only to be welcomed. Even if he should take it out on her—and if he should turn on her in this instant, she would almost certainly die bearing the brunt of his unchecked anger—she would at least die knowing that someone, somewhere, had gotten the best of her lord husband. It was scant cause for comfort and a vengeful one, but she was long past caring about much of anything besides her hatred of this diabolical being who held her captive.

Instead of answering, the Baron turned on the trembling messenger. "Who gave you this message?"

"I know not, m'lord!" the man replied, nearly incontinent with fear. "He were a stranger, down t' th' tavern. 'E said there'd be a penny in it f'r me if I were t' tak' a message t' th' Baron."

Walter continued to stare at the messenger, but the man, having no more to offer his lord, merely stood there trembling, staring at the tips of his shoes. The baron stepped closer to him, frowning down at him in thought, then raised the man's chin up with one finger, forcing him to look him in the eyes. "Think of the man who gave you the tablets. What did he look like?"

"I...can't rightly 'member, m'lord! It were tha' dark an' smoky in th' tavern by th' firelight. Gray hair, I think...or was th' jus' th' rock dust?..'e were dressed like a miner, m'lord..."

Walter stared at the man a bit longer—Mind-Seeing him, Javana surmised—but whatever he might have sought, what he found was apparently disappointing, for after a moment he gave a gusty breath of frustration and released the man abruptly. "You may go." The messenger needed no further urging, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste to depart.

The baron wiped a drop of blood off his palm onto his trousers—another sign that he was upset, for he was normally quite fastidious—dragging the splinter of wood out of his skin in the process. He reached for his sword belt, wrapping it around his waist.

"Where are you going?" Javana asked.

"Out. Don't wait up."

Javana breathed a sigh of relief and allowed herself a faint smile as Walter slammed the door behind him.

#

_ May 20, late evening_

_ Forest clearing, Caerdraig_

Walter used no light besides that of the moon and stars overhead, his eyes well accustomed to the terrain nearest his castle, but Sextus's keen vision detected his movement in the shadows nonetheless. He turned to Stefan, nearby yet nearly invisible in the dark shadows at the forest's edge.

_Are you ready?_

_ As ready as I'm going to be,_ Stefan Mind-Spoke back, looking a trifle nervous yet determined. _I hope he sticks to swordplay, though; I don't know how well I'd do in a Duel Arcane. My powers have never been tested in one, and he's probably better trained than I am._

_ I doubt that, actually, but hopefully we'll never have to test the theory. For one thing, Walter doesn't strike me as the play-within-the-rules type. I doubt he'd want to bother with a formal duel, although if he does, be on guard against him cheating, because he won't be intending a fair fight. He'd fight to win. Fortunately, he'll have no idea who you even are, much less that you're Deryni, so that's unlikely to become an issue. _Sextus gave Stefan a warning look. _If he does use his powers at all, he'll likely try to blast your mind, assuming you're merely human, so be on guard for that. Your shields will protect you, of course, but after that he'll know what you are, so you'll lose that avenue for surprise. And remember, all you need to do is keep him occupied and focused on you, and hopefully moving in the right direction. I'll do the rest._

_ I can do that._

_ Good luck, then._

Sir Stefan de Varnay ambled forth into the clearing, remembering to stoop a little, for tonight he was naught but a simple village miner.

#

_ May 20, late evening_

_ Kestrel Mote_

"…and deliver us from evil, Amen. Oh, and please keep Papa safe tonight!" Little Ranulf de Varnay's eyes shot open, seeking his mother's reassurance. "He will, won't he? Keep Papa safe, I mean?"

His mother nodded, smiling to hide her own nervousness from her young son, who had far more cause for worry than he realized. Even though Lisette wasn't privy to Stefan's exact orders, she suspected that she'd already been told far more than the King would have liked, if he had known, about Stefan's current mission. She knew quite well, however, what information she'd been asked to acquire and convey to the King earlier that month. Even if Stefan hadn't divulged what he had to her, Lisette would quickly have deduced that his current assignment could be quite closely related. If Baron Walter were to discover Stefan was part of a hunt closing in on him, her husband would doubtless be in grave danger, even with Sextus Arilan to accompany him. "I'm sure Papa will be quite careful on his travels, and will hurry home just as soon as he is able." Lisette kissed her son's brow. "Goodnight, darling." She moved over to Ollie's bedside to begin tucking the older child in. Oliver's wide eyes stared up at her.

"You don't think any Deryni will get him in the night, do you?" the boy whispered, his voice tight with anxiety.

Lisette forced herself to maintain her reassuring smile. "Oh, I think Papa is quite able to defend himself. He's a knight in the King's service, you know!" She hoped that would be enough to allay the boy's fears. After a moment the child, looking a little more reassured, closed his eyes and snuggled deeper into his pillow, whispering his prayers. Lisette kissed him lightly and went to tuck in her daughter Liesel.

#

_May 20, late evening_

_ Forest clearing, Caerdraig_

Walter glowered at the shabbily clothed man heading in his direction across the open field. He dared to threaten his baron, did he? Who was this upstart? Walter was determined to find out…after he'd done away with the man. No, first things first—this man must die for his affront, but after that, Walter would see which of the filthy bastards who worked his mines had challenged him, would sift his dead or dying mind for any memories that might be useful, then wreak vengeance on all the miner's kith and kin. This man thought he would line his own pockets with his Baron's money? Walter mused briefly as to whether it would be a fitting ironic touch to leave a couple of small coins on the dead man's eyes, enough to pay for burial costs, but no, on second thought, it would be far more satisfying to leave the beggar to rot without ceremony.

No need to stain his sword blade on such a shabby threat as a mere miner. Walter raised his hand as if hailing the man, muttering a few words under his breath. A sudden blast of power erupted from his fingertips, shrouding the miner and stopping him in his tracks.

#

Stefan reeled under the sudden onslaught, but his shields tightened automatically, deflecting the brunt of the attack. The air around him crackled with deflected energies, much of the power entering the ground, although for a moment afterwards the lightning-like energies swirled about him as they dissipated, filling the atmosphere with a tang that reminded Stefan of the smell of an approaching storm.

A stifle moan from the underbrush. Stefan quelled a surge of panic. _Sextus?_

_ Damn, that hurt! Don't mind me, Stefan, keep your mind on your business. I'll cope._

Stefan dared not look behind him to check on how his friend was faring. He stepped forward, his hair still standing at the back of his neck, as much from the energies that had threatened him as from an involuntary shiver of fear. He forced it down, keeping his focus locked on the opponent before him.

"Should I be dead now, Baron Walter? I'm sorry to disappoint."

#

The energies roiling off Stefan had discharged in all directions, and while Sextus's shields had also protected him from the brunt of the psychic blast, he'd still taken quite a jolt as his body served as a conduit between the power-charged air and the ground. And given that more of his body had been in direct contact with that ground than Stefan's, his muscles had contracted involuntarily at that moment. The spasm had ceased immediately afterwards, but he still ached.

This must be what it feels like to be hit by lightning, Sextus thought. Thank God he wasn't human, or the smell of seared flesh would now be filling the air. Stefan might find that a bit distracting.

#

Walter gaped momentarily at the man walking towards him. He should be dead now! A part of his mind stared uncomprehendingly at the miner, wondering why he wasn't, but then the puzzle piece clicked into place. Of course! The man must be Deryni.

If he was Deryni, though, he couldn't possibly be a well trained one. Not here in Gwynedd, and certainly not of the peasant class. An education—_any_ kind of education—cost money, and few rustics could afford to spend their coin on an education beyond the basic lessons that could be acquired in a village school. Certainly he'd not have had the resources to pay for travel expenses and an education abroad, where formal training in the Deryni arts might be acquired. The King's precious Schola was far too new to have trained a pupil this man's age. No, the man probably had picked up a trick or two over the years, but that was it. Walter would easily best him.

This meant, though, that he couldn't simply kill him the easy way. He'd have to bloody his sword after all. Ah, well, that's what it was for, after all.

Walter drew his weapon.

#

Stefan smiled in grim satisfaction. There was a reason Deryni generally favored regular combat over magical attacks except for occasions that warranted a Duel Arcane. The sort of spellcasting that Walter had just used on him was quite tiring and could not be sustained indefinitely. While the blast would certainly have killed a mere human, by underestimating his opponent Walter had undermined his own strength. Oh, Stefan must be careful not to make the same mistake. He was certain Walter still had enough energy to offer a challenge in hand to hand combat. However, he would be fighting now as one who had already been involved in pitched battle for several minutes, whereas Stefan's energies were still fresh. Some amount of energy had been required to protect him from Walter's blast of power, of course, but not so much as to equal the amount Walter had spent in casting it at him.

Walter lifted his sword, the pale moonlight glinting off the cold steel, and in that moment, Stefan reached under his cloak and drew forth a weapon suitable for his assumed role…a miner's pick.

#

What the hell? Walter stared as the miner brandished the sharp pick. Did he truly think he could defeat him, a trained swordsman, with _that? _Certainly Walter would have to be on his guard; he had not come out prepared for actual combat—true, he had grabbed for his sword nonetheless, but that had been more of a reflexive act than anything else—for he'd been certain his magical attack would dispatch the threat without the need for him to jeopardize his life by drawing any closer to the blackmailer than necessary for the spell to be effective. But still, this rustic surely must know that a nobleman equipped with a sword, not to mention years of martial training, would be far better equipped in a fight than some mere laborer using the tools of his trade in a manner they were not intended for. What an idiot this man must be! Why, he hadn't the reach; Walter's broadsword was easily a foot longer than the handle of that miner's pick. He'd have to close in to have any hope of landing a blow, and Walter could easily skewer him if he came within that close a range.

But something about the scene before him made him uneasy. Something about this man, despite his dress and his odd choice of weapon, seemed off. He didn't look deferential enough, perhaps that was it. Of course, he'd come to challenge Walter, but still, a lifetime of servitude should have instilled in him some ingrained habits of behavior and posture. But this man dared to look him in the eye, like any noble lord, and as he slowly crossed the distance between himself and his baron, he moved like a man not as unaccustomed to the footwork of the battle field as he ought to be. The pieces weren't adding up, leaving Walter feeling on edge. He didn't like uncertainty.

"You don't know who I am, do you?" The other man sounded calm, far too calm for a commoner—Deryni or not—who was facing the full wrath of a Deryni Lord. Who _was_ he? The by-blow of some other Deryni, mayhap, accustomed enough to the presence of a nobleman not to be cowed? Perhaps one of Morgan's illegitimate get grown to manhood, traveling north of his usual range? Walter frowned. He'd never heard of the Duke of Corwyn having a bastard child, but then again, Morgan was the discreet sort. Surely he must have had a liaison or two in his youth that he'd simply never mentioned at Court. Why _would_ he mention his bastards, after all? Walter certainly had never made a point of acknowledging his own get. Unless one had sired an heir, what was the point?

It made no difference who this man was. One didn't need a name in order to die.

Walter circled the man warily, taking his measure.

#

Stefan grinned, more a feral smile than an expression of amusement, and took the offensive, charging towards the startled baron. Walter hastily threw up his sword to block the swing of Stefan's pick, but at the last moment Stefan turned his arm slightly, foiling Walter's blade with his weapon, nearly wrenching it from the man's hand. Walter backed off a few paces, muttering curses under his breath.

"Thought you'd make a small fortune off me, did you?" the baron asked.

"Your death will suffice," Stefan assured him as he struck a second time, leaping in close enough to take a swipe at Walter before swiftly leaping backwards again as Walter's sword sliced through the air where he'd just been standing. His own weapon flew up as Stefan attempted to use the pick's head to intercept the sword and wrench it from Walter's grip with a twist, though at the last moment Walter managed to extricate his sword and leap another step back.

A few more steps back, and Walter would be perfectly placed for Sextus to make his move.

#

Something about the man seemed strangely familiar, and as their slow move towards the center of the clearing brought him further out of the shadows of the treeline, Walter could see him more clearly in the soft moonlight.

"It's _you!"_ he breathed. "Javana's leavings. What, are you thinking to have her back now? Surely you don't think you can keep two wives at that pathetic little manor hovel of yours?"

#

Stefan smiled grimly, refusing to be baited by the man before him. 'Javana's leavings,' was he? Well, that was an interesting twist. How the baron knew of his prior relationship with Javana, Stefan could only guess. Hopefully he'd not ripped that knowledge from her mind. If he had…well, Sextus wasn't the only one who would rejoice at this scum's death.

"You should have enjoyed more of her while you had the chance," Walter taunted. "She's quite the dainty little morsel. Of course, I'd have killed you for it after, but you might have found her well worth dying for." He laughed. "Apparently you still do." He took a jab at Stefan as the younger man stepped forward to close the distance between them, but Stefan struck the sword's tip away with his pick, his eyes never leaving Walter's face, then brought pick up in a sideways arc towards Walter's skull, forcing him another step back.

"I wonder if she ever thinks of you while I'm using her?" Walter mused, a sneer marring his handsome features. "I'll have to tell her that her hero came back for her after all. I'm sure she'll shed a tear or two for you when I ride her tonight." His sword swung out, narrowly missing Stefan's neck, though Stefan managed to duck beneath the sword in time, bringing his pick upwards, narrowly missing Walter's groin. The baron leaped back another step.

"Naughty lad!" Walter taunted, though he turned slightly pale. "I'm still using those."

"Not for much longer," Stefan offered.

Walter smiled. "Does your wife scream out for you, Sir Stefan?"

He sent a lurid picture slamming into Stefan's mind.

#

It was all Stefan could do to keep from mindlessly charging at Walter as the image of Javana's face, contorted in an expression more agonized than impassioned, flooded his mind. He forced himself to ignore the vision as best he could, keeping his outward gaze fixed on her loathsome husband even as his mind was assaulted by Walter's memory of those haunted eyes in that anguished face, the only true mirror of the feelings she must have had locked away deep inside herself as her body responded to Walter's controls. It was like watching a puppet move, witnessing Javana's seemingly passionate outward response to Walter's husbandly ministrations, but behind her body's actions, the full horror she felt inside shining forth from her eyes, the only part of herself that remained fully hers at that moment. Rage filled Stefan, but he understood that was Walter's intent, so he forced the emotion down, allowing iron control to transmute it, as an alchemist might transmute lead to gold, into the resolve he needed to take careful aim at Walter's head.

He swung, turning the pick handle at the last moment to ensure that the flat of the blade would make contact with Walter's skull and not the point, for Sextus needed the bastard alive, so Stefan would do his best to avoid killing him for the moment. After Sextus was done with him, though, he'd gladly see the swiving gallows-bait rot. Gone were his earlier qualms at the thought of killing a man in cold blood; now he simply hoped Walter would suffer sufficiently before he met his end.

#

Walter smiled at the shaken look in his opponent's eyes. As the pick swung towards his head, he ducked, lunging forward. With his free hand, he caught Stefan's weapon arm, forcing it upwards even as he brought his right knee forward to slam into the knight's crotch. Stefan's knees buckled under the assault and he fell backwards onto the ground as Walter leaped clear. He gave the younger man scant time to recover, lunging forward with sword at the ready, prepared to skewer Stefan before he could recover his faculties enough to take another swing with his pick.

A sharp pain pricked his neck just at that moment, and before he could carry out his planned attack, a bitter metallic taste flooded his mouth. His vision began to waver, the world starting to careen out of control around him. Walter fell to his knees, bewildered and apprehensive, as a surge of nausea overwhelmed him. He struggled to regain control, but his sword fell from suddenly nerveless fingers.

Sextus Arilan stepped forward out of the shadows. "Are you familiar with merasha, Lord Walter? I assumed that was part of every Deryni's training! Oh wait, you weren't formally trained, were you? More's the pity...for you, that is. Well, I suppose it's better to learn some lessons late than never..." The youngest Arilan brother smiled, looking positively diabolical in the moonlight. "By the way, brother, congratulations on your seventh wedding anniversary! Though perhaps I should be congratulating my sister instead for the imminent loss of her husband."

Walter quailed beneath the hatred in the man's eyes, feeling his first shiver of fear.


	19. Part Eighteen

** Part Eighteen—Judgment Day**

_May 20, 1133—late night_

_ Forest clearing, Barony of Caerdraig_

"Are you alone, Walter, or did you leave someone further up the trail?" Sextus asked, his voice casual as he stood beside the reeling baron. Stefan sat up, recovering from Walter's crotch shot enough to lurch to his feet and stand guard beside the fallen man, for despite the merasha coursing through his system, Walter still posed some potential threat.

Walter remained stubbornly mute, staring fixedly at the ground, his cunning eyes darting to and fro as if seeking some avenue of escape. Stefan grabbed him by the hair, forcing his head up to look at Sextus.

"I asked you a question," Sextus reminded the captive, the pleasant tone of his voice at odds with his hard expression. Bringing his Deryni powers into play, he ordered, "Answer it!"

Walter, struggling to fight off the merasha disruption, could not resist the Truth-Say command underlying the words. "I did not," he heard himself say reluctantly despite his best efforts to remain silent and make the Arilan git guess.

"Does anyone know where you've gone?" Sextus asked.

Walter fought even harder against the spell, but he could not fight the compulsion to answer truthfully in his weakened and unshielded condition. "No." He gritted his teeth, hoping against all hope that perhaps he'd been wrong all of his life and that there truly _was_ a perdition, and that Sextus would end up there. If only he could fight this horrific weakness pervading his entire body and think through the pounding in his head, he'd be glad to speed the interfering bastard on his way. Mere oblivion seemed too good for the likes of him.

"What happened to the message I sent you?"

Walter pressed his lips tightly together, but the answer came forth unbidden anyway. For the first time, he had an inkling of what his controls over Javana must have felt like from her point of view.

"I…destroyed it."

Sextus smiled. "Good. So no one will suspect foul play if you don't return by morning's light and your body turns up someplace later, like—oh, perhaps an old mine shaft? How careless of you, boyo."

Walter's eyes widened. He struggled to rise and flee, but Stefan's strong hands roughly shoved him to the ground again.

Sextus crouched down before him to meet his eyes squarely, just out of reach of Walter's flailing attempts to fight off his tormentors. "A point of curiosity, brother. How many rapes and murders _have_ you committed over the years? From what I've gathered, you seem to have been a very busy man."

Walter, to his relief, couldn't answer that question, for in truth he had no idea. More than he'd ever bothered to keep up with was the only thing he could say with any certainty. "Rot in hell," he managed.

Sextus nodded, his smile disappearing. "Oh, I'm certain you will." He straightened, exchanging a glance with Stefan. Walter felt Stefan jerk him upright, hoisting him by the arms. He took a staggering step forward, but Sextus bent to grab him by the ankles, the two men carrying him between them like a sack of turnips towards a nearby patch of inky blackness barely visible against almost equally dark ground. Walter, after a moment, realized what the darkness was, and began to struggle feebly.

#

"How much merasha was in that dart?" Stefan asked as the two men hefted Walter's weight the short distance across the clearing to the uncovered mine shaft.

"Just enough to make Walter's life truly miserable before it ends," Sextus answered, his voice curt as he concentrated on getting close enough to the open pit to toss their burden in without risking himself or Stefan falling in. "This should be close enough." He glanced at Stefan who nodded. They began to swing Walter like a hammock swaying in the close quarters of a ship's hold. "One…two…three…." At three, the men released the incapacitated baron, who screamed weakly as his body sailed through the air, plummeting into utter darkness.

#

_ May 20_

_ Caerdraig Castle_

Javana de Branigan sat bolt upright in bed, hearing a scream. After a moment, she realized that the scream had not been within the castle, but had come from deep inside her mind. Or, perhaps, it had been in a dream, some dream she had awakened far too quickly to remember.

Something seemed…different, though. She listened intently, all senses alert, but could not define what it was at first. Rising cautiously, she ventured to the window, unshuttering it to peer outside.

And then the realization hit her. The controls that Walter had set in her mind, though they were still in place, had altered slightly. How, she wasn't quite sure yet, but somehow they seemed…looser?

She turned her thoughts inward, trying to determine the difference, and what might have caused his controls to slip.

#

_May 20 _

_ Caerdraig, abandoned mine shaft_

Walter regained consciousness, his mind and body shrouded in a miasma of agony. He could see nothing in the darkness around him, nor could he see any light from above. He had no idea how deep he was, although he vaguely recalled that this shaft had not been dug out quite as deeply as most, as the vein of ore it had yielded had not produced enough to make further effort worthwhile once the miners had hit bad air. The poisonous air had long since dissipated, Walter imagined, or he'd not have lived long enough to have revived after his plummet into the pit and his abrupt landing on the rocky ground at the bottom. It was little short of a miracle he'd survived the fall, though judging from the pains coursing through him, he'd broken hip and leg bones, and perhaps some ribs and an arm as well. Perhaps he'd landed arse-downward, and the impact of the landing shattering those bones had absorbed enough shock that his skull had failed to crack open upon impact with the hard ground as well. Not that this was a blessing, as it meant he would simply die more slowly, if not by breathing in poisoned air, then by simple exposure and the shock of his injuries. He doubted he'd last long enough to die of slow starvation, and as for thirst…well, it _was_ a mine, and water seepage into mines had ever been a problem. He was a bit surprised he'd awakened on somewhat dry earth rather than dying at the bottom of a well; at least the drainage systems in the pit still worked.

And on top of his physical injuries, the damned drums inside his head still tried to split it in two, and his stomach was still in turmoil. No, he imagined he would die rather quickly. He just never imagined it would happen this way.

Walter smiled. If Sextus Arilan and Stefan de Varnay had thought they could rescue Javana from him in this way, they'd have a surprise coming. No, he intended to retain his hold on his possession all the way to the grave.

#

The formally trained part of Javana was fascinated despite itself as she studied what Walter had done to her mind. She couldn't literally _see_ what he had done, of course, but as she entered into a deep meditative state, she took a complete inventory of the mental changes she could sense within herself. The controls were deteriorating slightly, though as of yet she didn't understand why.

She tried to think back to her memories of how to fight off compulsions, but those lessons remained just beyond reach. There had also been some way, she'd learned, that a trained Deryni could sieve through another person's mind, filtering out another's controls and removing them. She wondered if it might be possible for her to perform such a procedure on her own mind. Perhaps there was some way, if only she weren't too foggy-witted to recall it to conscious memory. Her inability to do so was probably due to Walter's control on her. It might have weakened, but it was far from gone.

She continued to take a closer look at the damage Walter had done to her. One shadowy area made her recoil in horror. She fell deeper into her trance, studying it even more closely.

Sweet Jesú, what had he done to her?! Javana nearly came out of trance in her shock. _This_ was a problem, one she would have to figure out how to neutralize and quickly, for even as she discovered it, Walter's controls in her mind loosened even more, and now she understood what was happening. Somehow, somewhere, he was slowly dying, and if she'd correctly interpreted this shadowy trigger she'd just discovered, if he died, she would as well, her mental processes disrupting in an cascade-like sequence of failures from which there'd be no hope of recovery.

Javana suppressed the panic that threatened to bring her out of trance, allowing her mind to offer up a brief prayer for St. Camber's aid and protection before sinking even deeper, racing against time to disarm the trigger Walter had set before his final release became hers.

#

May_ 20, near midnight_

_ Abandoned mine shaft_

Walter was sure he was hallucinating from the shock and pain. He had to be; there was no other explanation for what he sensed in the darkness that surrounded him. A woman's voice whispered in his ear, low and sweet, uttering seductive promises of unimaginable pleasures. He allowed himself the luxury of listening to her voice, letting him lull away the agony in his body, and after a moment he felt his mind start to clear, giving him the wherewithal to summon up enough energy, despite his injuries, to do a pain-banishing spell. The effort left him spent, gasping on the ground on which he lay, but the relief was profound. He sensed nothing further for a few moments, then the voice whispered to him again.

_Walter, my sweet, enjoy me…._

The whisper was only in his mind, but that was fine; obviously it had to be. Walter was not yet so far gone as to imagine otherwise. What was harder to explain was the unexpected sensation of gentle hands caressing his body. Perhaps it was some effect of the shock, trying to lull him into acceptance of his fate by allowing him to sink into more pleasant imaginings.

Whatever it was, he wouldn't fight it.

_You are mine now._

Walter surrendered to the bliss that had taken possession of him.

#

_Oh Jesú, deliver me from evil!_ Javana Arilan de Branigan felt Walter's soul slowly begin to ebb out of him through the psychic link that still bound them together. As his control over her weakened even further, a sudden memory of a marginal note in one of the more obscure texts in her studies leaped into her mind, offering up a key to the puzzle she was straining to unlock.

She probed the shadowy trigger area once more, now more certain she understood the means by which to disarm it. She tested her theory, and for a heart-stopping moment nothing seemed to happen. But then the trigger dissolved, her mind translating the event into visual imagery, as if it had evaporated into a gray mist and then dissipated, leaving her free.

#

May_ 20/21—Midnight_

_ Abandoned mine shaft_

The imaginary woman screamed, then settled into her ravaging of Walter with a vengeance. For ravaging it was now indeed, quite literally, not mere ravishing any longer. The snap of the first bone awakened him from his near-stupor with a howl as the invisible hands that had caressed him so gently now began to pluck and pull at his body. He wondered what was happening, and as if some evil genie had deigned to grant him his last dying wish, the black pit began to fill with an unholy light—more like phosphorescent mist—enabling to see the dark temptress looming over him, her face and form just like Javana's had been at her fairest. No, not Javana after all…now she was Meg…no, she kept changing form, like a roiling fog now, her features dissolving from one familiar face to another, until Walter dimly recognized that he was looking upon the visages of every woman he had ever ravished and discarded. His eyes widened as he began to stammer pleas of appeal, but it was too late. The succubus, unwilling to be appeased, turned a feral smile upon him, sharp teeth glittering wolf-like in the eerie light, and began to rip him limb from limb.

#

_ Midnight_

_ Forest clearing, Caerdraig_

Sextus turned wary eyes to Stefan. _Do you hear that?_ he Mind-Spoke.

Stefan also felt uneasy, though he couldn't have said exactly why. His ears detected nothing. He extended his senses outward, shivering as he encountered…something. Whatever it was, it was quite close by, and he instinctively recoiled from the sensation of…cold? No, it was more like evil, perhaps, only in some tangible form.

Then he thought he heard something—a weak scream, coming up from the mine shaft nearby. No, he had to have imagined that. He and Sextus had covered the hole back over earlier in the night, right after they'd thrown Walter in. They'd hardly had to work at damaging the rotted wood enough to make it look as if Walter had fallen through it; the effort of moving it from its original location and back had done most of that work for them. They'd simply had to brush over the flattened grasses of its temporary location a few times with broken branches in order to hide the traces of where it had briefly lain.

Still, he crossed himself and whispered a hasty prayer for forgiveness.

#

That gut instinct that had served Sextus well for most of his adult life was now telling him to ward himself and Stefan, and to do so quickly. He questioned the instinct, knowing that in the unlikely event someone should wander through the clearing at this late hour, the glow of a warded circle would be a dead giveaway that Deryni were camped here so close to the Castle, and there'd surely be questions about their identity once Walter's disappearance became known. But he followed the instinct anyway, in part because it had become ingrained habit, and because that habit had saved his life on numerous occasions.

His hands trembling, he reached into his belt pouch, drawing out the ward cubes, charging each with the words of the spell as he hastily set them into their proper positions, until a shimmering dome of protection surrounded the two men.

#

A dark energy emanated from the pit, roiling turbulently, its shadowy form pitch black against the moonlit darkness of the midnight sky. A psychic scream of frustration swirled around the dome of light briefly, and then the energy dispersed, evaporating away into nothingness.

Sextus Arilan, not normally a man given to earnest prayer, prayed fervently as it passed over them, vowing to make his Confession to Denis as soon as the opportunity presented itself. The two men saw nothing more of the phenomenon once it had dissipated, but they did not emerge from the wards, opting to remain under the magical dome of protection until daybreak.

#

May_ 21, early morning_

_ Caerdraig Castle_

The last remnant of Walter's control over Javana shattered, and in its place she felt a surge of joyous freedom as her mind became fully her own again for the first time in seven years. Tears of elation coursed down her face. She must continue to play her role as Walter's Baroness, she realized, for though she realized she must be a widow now, her husband's household would not expect her to know that yet; in fact, they might not even be aware of his death yet themselves. She would have to wait until they notified her of his loss—indeed, she was quite curious to know what had caused it!—and then she could play the part of the bereaved wife. No, few here would believe that, although most of Walter's household were unaware of how much his baroness had been a prisoner in her own home. His dazed widow, then, shocked by the sudden turn of her fortunes, and eager to return to her brother's home and put the years of her unhappy marriage to Walter behind her now that he was gone. Of course, as baroness she had a duty to remain long enough to ensure a smooth transition of the lands and other holdings to Walter's heir, whoever that might be, since he had no legitimate sons. But after that, surely there'd be nothing to hold her here anymore. No, she was truly free, free to go home.

Home. Where _was_ home for her now? Seisyll's house?

No, she would not allow herself to worry about that right now. For now, it was enough that she had been delivered from Walter's iron grasp.

Something passed close by, something dark and foreboding, making the hairs stand on the back of Javana's neck. She shrank back, extending her senses out cautiously, her fingers worrying at one of her rings—her betrothal ring—in fear. The momentary premonition of evil passed, and Javana released a breath she hadn't realized she was holding, whispering a prayer of gratitude to God and to St. Camber.


	20. Part Nineteen

** Chapter Nineteen—Reconciliation**

****_The Bishop of Dhassa's study_

_ May 28, 1133_

Stefan exited the Bishop of Dhassa's study looking exhausted, but the haunted look that he had worn ever since he and Sextus had carried out their mission in the Kheldish Riding was finally gone, hopefully dispelled for good. He smiled at Sextus. "Your uncle says to give him just a moment longer; he'll come out for you directly."

Sextus nodded, settling back down on the bench he'd just risen from to await the summons. Stefan joined him on the bench. "He's been to visit Javana already," Stefan said.

Sextus turned to him in surprise. "That was fast."

"Yes. Right after Seisyll debriefed us, he contacted Denis. Denis settled matters as much as he could here and then disappeared to the Riding for a few days. He turned up at Caerdraig not very long after Walter's remains were discovered." Stefan gave a wry smile. "He may have...ah...left a few members of the baronial household with the inaccurate impression that Javana had sent a message to him shortly after the baron went missing, begging him to visit so she could receive his comfort and advice. In any case, no one questioned his unusually timely arrival."

"So, did Denis happen to mention if anyone he spoke to in Caerdraig suspects Walter's death was anything besides an accident?"

Stefan looked uneasy. "Well...about that. When I mentioned Walter's remains being discovered...well, I didn't simply mean his body. There was very little left of him to bring back up, actually, and what they managed to recover looked like..." The older knight swallowed hard. "Like he had been torn apart and devoured by some ravenous beast."

"Jesú." Sextus turned pale. "Tell me Javana wasn't called upon to identify his body!" He frowned, confused. "Maybe something else fell into the pit before we threw Walter in. A wolf, perhaps?" The guess didn't ring true to Sextus, but he could think of no other rational explanation for what had happened. Mine miasmas were lethal, yes, but poisoned air did not rend men into small bits. "So, what are the people of Caerdraig saying about it?"

The other knight shrugged. "There are a lot of wild rumors right now, the Bishop said. Some think perhaps a wolf fell in sometime earlier and was maddened by hunger, or that one got into the mine by means of a side shaft and got lost in its depths. Others think that some carrion birds, smelling the scent of rotting flesh, flew into the shaft and ate most of the Baron before he was discovered." Stefan gave Sextus an ironic look. "And several of the village folk think he might have been done in by the same 'Night Stalker' who used to prey on the area from time to time. They don't realize that _he_ was their 'Night Stalker,' of course."

The two men sat side by side in silence for a long while. Finally Stefan smiled slightly. "Do you know what feast day this is?"

Sextus shook his head. "No, I've lost track."

Stefan's grin grew. "Bishop Arilan told me that today is the feast of Saint Stefan, the patron saint of wanderers."

Sextus laughed. "Well, I suppose we'd best offer up a prayer of thanksgiving to your name saint, then, for safety during our wanderings!"

"I may just do that; it certainly can't hurt." The door to the bishop's study opened, and both men stood. Stefan glanced at the elder Arilan, then back at his companion. "I'll be in the chapel down the corridor when you're ready to leave, Sextus."

#

"Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been..." Jesú, how long _had_ it been? Sextus thought back, finally remembering the last time he'd confessed his sins to a priest. "Last April, I think, since my last confession. Or whenever it was that Easter fell last year."

"Easter of_ last_ year?" Denis shook his head. "April tenth. Over a year ago." Denis Arilan studied his wayward nephew with a suppressed sigh. "Thank God you confessed _then_, considering how close you came to dying of the fever-flux just a short time later!"

Sextus gave him a sheepish smile.

Denis leaned back in his chair, shaking his head sadly. He shoved a small book across a table towards his nephew. "Should I just have you open up this penitential and cross out the sins you _haven't_ committed in the past year? That might save us some time," he said, his voice desert dry. Sextus gave a startled bark of laughter at the unexpected joke, though he knew Denis's ironic humor was meant to underscore a more serious, if unspoken, reproof.

Denis rubbed at his already aching temples. "I'll hear your full confession, of course, Sextus. But first, why don't we start with your account of what happened in Caerdraig last week?"

#

"What do you think it was, that evil presence that flew over us that night?" Sextus asked as he wound up his story.

Denis frowned thoughtfully, his mind dovetailing the events Sextus had just shared with him with the account he had already heard from Stefan, weighing both against what Javana had shared with him during his brief visit to Caerdraig. He strongly suspected that the dark entity Stefan and Sextus had both witnessed the night of Walter's death had been the succubus that Javana had told him about, summoned up from whatever unholy realms Walter had conjured it up from in order to wreak his vengeance on Sir Aylmer. But he could hardly go into that much detail in his reply to Sextus without violating the seal of the confessional, for he had been acting in his priestly office when Javana had confided that secret to him, so he deliberately answered in vague, general terms. "I think it's safe to say it was some minion of evil, possibly something Walter conjured up at some point in the past, if he was given to dabbling in the dark arts. Without formal training, there's no telling where Walter's spellcasting might have gone wrong, but if he was venturing into magics beyond his level of understanding—and _especially_ the darker _ars magica_—there's little wonder something came back to bite him on the arse." Denis grimaced at the inadvertent pun. "So to speak. At any rate, it would probably be for the best for me to pay another visit up there soon. That—_thing_ needs to be properly bound and the area spiritually cleansed. The sooner, the better."

"Well, that's your area of expertise, not mine, thank God," Sextus replied. "Unless you need to bring along some other Deryni as back-up to draw energies from, I'd just as soon never return to Caerdraig."

Denis nodded. "Quite understandable. I think you'll find your sister feels likewise. And no, I think it would be best if I called on other resources for this one, though I may pay Bishop Duncan and Father Nivard a call soon. And perhaps I should consult with the Patriarch of Beldour; the clergy in Torenth have a fair bit more experience in this level of exorcism ritual. Their Deryni clergy do, at any rate." He frowned. "Though I probably ought to run that idea past the King and Archbishop Cardiel first. The fourth quarter wouldn't necessarily require a Deryni priest, though that certainly would help."

Sextus was silent a long moment. "When does Javana hope to return home?" he finally asked.

Denis sighed, pondering how much to answer and what to leave for Javana to explain. After a short while, he decided just to give his nephew a brief summation of what he and his niece had discussed at much greater length before his return to Dhassa. This particular conversation, after all, had been between niece and uncle, not between penitent and priest. "It's going to be quite some time before she's ready to return to Tre-Arilan for anything more than brief visits, I think. Javana needs time to heal and to take stock of her situation. And she requires more privacy than Tre-Arilan can offer her."

Sextus looked indignant. "She's surely not thinking of remaining at Caerdraig, with all the bad memories that place must have for her?!"

His uncle shook his head. "No. Countess Celsie has a home for women in Derry—it's not a convent, although there_ is_ a convent close by that works closely with it. It's more like a hostel where women who have survived traumatic experiences can find healing, learn skills to help them make their way in life or teach such skills to other women, and consider their future options. Some end up taking the veil; others return to the world once they feel better equipped to face it again. Sophie could give you more of the particulars; you might recall that she and the Countess have a close friendship."

"Oh." Sextus considered this unforeseen option. "I suppose that would be all right, though surely she knows we'd be glad to take care of her at home?"

"And that's the problem," Denis said, though his smile was sympathetic. "She doesn't want to be 'taken care of,' cosseted and pitied and constantly treated like a fragile thing that might break if handled. Javana wants more than to simply get through this; she wants to recover her life. She wants the chance to grow, and she needs the freedom to learn who she is now, with Walter gone. _Not_ as Jamyl's daughter, not as my niece, not as Walter's widow or as Seisyll's sister and ward. She needs to find out who Javana Arilan is, and what sort of life she wants to rebuild for herself, before she can move on."

Sextus frowned thoughtfully. "What options does she have, though, in the long run? Unless that home in Derry will allow her to stay there indefinitely, she'll eventually have to make some sort of a choice. If she doesn't want to return home, and she no longer has a home in Caerdraig, then how will she support herself? Will she keep Walter's Rhemuth apartments, and if so, will her dower be sufficient to maintain her? I can't really imagine Javana entering holy orders, can you?"

Denis sighed. "No. Nor can I imagine her remarrying—at least certainly not anytime soon. You're right, Sextus; it's a man's world, and it's hard for a woman without a husband to make her own place in it. But she's not the girl she once was, and she'd not be happy returning to Tre-Arilan under her brother's guardianship again, like some maiden barely come into young womanhood. I have my own concerns for her, and I assure you that Seisyll won't be any more comfortable with her decision than you are. But she's a grown woman and a widow now, not a child, and in the end it's _her_ choice to make. She's had precious few choices allowed her in the past seven years, thanks to Baron Walter's controls on her. The least those of us who love her can do to help her heal is to allow her the freedom to make her own choices." Denis smiled. "Besides, marriage or religious vows aren't the _only_ options available to women; they're simply the most commonly chosen ones. Javana may well decide to teach at St. Camber's Schola someday. That option came up also."

#

Sextus finished making his confession. The sun had fallen low in the sky by the time he finished, though not quite so low as Denis had feared it might when his nephew first entered the study intent on baring his soul. Denis stood by the window, staring out at the setting sun, trying to decide on penances that would serve both justice and mercy. He couldn't simply absolve the lad without some sort of penance, for the taking of a human life was always a serious matter, a stain on one's soul, no matter what the circumstances. Yet those circumstances, in this particular instance, had been extenuating indeed. And there was the corrective effect of penance to be considered as well. Some priests simply used it in punitive ways, but that was not the original intent. No, a conscientious priest, like a conscientious healer, ought to find some way to balance out a man's sins and moral weaknesses with such penances as might assist the penitent in recovering from his less healthy inclinations, bringing that soul back into harmony with God, even as a physician sought to bring health and harmony to a man's body by remedies meant to restore his balance of humors.

The bishop mused, flipping through the penitential book at one point as he thought, then made his decision. "For your part in Walter's...execution, forty days of fasting ought to suffice, I think."

Sextus looked shocked. "So few?"

"You were in Caerdraig at the King's request and command, were you not?"

His nephew nodded uncertainly.

Denis flipped open the book he held, pointing to a particular line. "Read this."

Sextus peered at the page, reading the line aloud. "If one kills a man in public warfare or of necessity because he has to defend his lord's property, he is to fast forty days." He glanced back up. "But we weren't at war!"

"No, but you were there at your lord's—Kelson's—command, and you were 'defending his property,' Sextus. The Kingdom of Gwynedd is your rightful lord's property, one which he has sworn to defend, and one which _you_ are also sworn to defend as his liegeman. Walter became a threat not simply to the lives of the King's populace, but to the stability of the entire Kingdom, and due to the nature of that threat, Kelson could not afford to deal with it by more public means. So Walter's death, though it was regrettable Kelson had to order it, became a necessity." Denis raised an eyebrow at his nephew. "Are you complaining that your penance is too light?"

Sextus shook his head hastily. "No!"

Denis suppressed a chuckle. "Good. Because I'm not done yet." He put the book back down. "I could prescribe the standard penances for wenching and drunkenness, but they'd do you little good; you'd simply 'forget' to observe them after a month's time, finding them too onerous, and then you'd have to confess _that_ in due course. No, I think this time I'll try something different." Denis gave his nephew a wry smile. "You will atone for your sins in those areas of weakness by giving alms once per quarter to two worthy institutions—the House of the Magdalenes in Lendour, and the Infirmary at St. Bernard's Abbey. One sovereign to each per quarter should suffice, at the beginning of the season, if that's when you get paid."

Sextus's eyes widened. "Two sovereigns? Where in the hell am I supposed to come up with that amount of coin?"

Denis's smile grew. "I'm of the impression that Seisyll allows you twenty-two marks per quarter for personal expenses, is that correct?"

His younger nephew nodded warily.

The smile became a grin. "Well then, two sovereigns should be well within your means, being a little less than half of that. You'll still have some coin left over for your personal needs, though I'm afraid you'll have very little left over for wenching and overindulging in strong drink. Perhaps that will help you amend your ways."

Sextus looked stunned. "Why those two institutions?" he finally asked.

"Oh, two reasons. The first is that, if that choice were up to you, you'd likely just end up designating the Green Barrel or some other dive as your 'almshouse' of choice, so I'm taking away that temptation from the very start. But the other reason is that those two houses are tied in with the original reasons for your penance. The House of the Magdalenes restores former prostitutes to a better way of life, teaching them skills that will allow those women to find honest livelihoods. And as for the Infirmary at St. Bernard's Abbey, many of their patients are health-wrecked and destitute due to an over-fondness for strong drink. Perhaps your frequent contributions of alms there will make you more mindful of your likelihood of needing their services some day, if you don't learn to moderate your intake." Denis steepled his fingertips, tapping them lightly against his lips. "Now, was there any other category of sin I left out?"

"No!" Sextus said hastily, rising and moving towards the door in hopes nothing else would come to his uncle's mind. "I'm sure that covers everything."

"Ah yes, one more thing." Denis's grin grew positively angelic. "You do recall, do you not, that you are required to receive the Sacrament of Penance at least once yearly?"

Sextus looked at his bishop-uncle warily. "Yes. I'm here, aren't I?"

"Yes, you are. A bit late, but you _are_ here, which gives me hope." Denis walked over to his nephew, clasping one hand on each of Sextus's shoulders, his earlier levity now chased away by a more serious expression. "Sextus, of all my family, you give me the most concern. First, there was your near-death from the fever-flux, not to mention the various missions you've been sent on over the years—many of them dangerous—with no guarantee you'll return from them alive. Quite frankly, it frightens me to think of you going a full year between confessions, given how regularly you find yourself in harm's way. So here is the rest of your penance. You will make your confessions more regularly—once per month ought to suffice, if you can't bring yourself to do so weekly. They needn't be made to me, if you'd prefer to confess to Father Anselmus or one of the priests in Rhemuth, but you should find a regular confessor—one who _knows_ you and your weaknesses—and stick with him. You are to continue this over the next year at the very least."

Sextus stared at him. "A whole year of monthly confessions?"

"Yes, Sextus."

Sextus stared down at his feet. "And after that?"

Denis snorted. "That's up to you. Hopefully you'll have developed enough of a habit by then, you'll at least start receiving the sacraments more regularly. 'Last April, or whenever Easter was last year'?...Jesú, lad, you'll be the death of me yet!" The bishop rolled his eyes. "Go on, Sextus; Sir Stefan probably thinks we've killed each other by now."

#

_ August 20, 1133_

_ Tre-Arilan_

Javana Arilan sat in the solar at Tre-Arilan for the first time in several years, assisting her sister in making preparations for their youngest nephew's christening feast in two days' time. John Denis Arilan, already becoming shortened by his family to Jack, had been born a few days earlier on the fifteenth, but his birth had been quite arduous for his mother, nearly resulting in her death, so Sophie was hardly up to preparing the manor for the influx of guests who would be arriving to celebrate the arrival of a newborn Arilan. Javana, upon receiving the news of Sophie's difficult labor and close escape, had offered to return to her childhood home for a few days in order to help Jashana get the manor readied for the arriving well-wishers.

Even now, with Walter dead and several months of being left at peace to start her life anew, Javana was a little ill at ease in her family's presence, and she sensed they were feeling equally awkward about what to say and do around her as well. It would have been far easier to have sent her well-wishes and a birth present from afar, remaining in the comforting environs of the St. Nicholas Sanctuary for Women and Orphans (her current home's more formal name, although its residents more jocularly referred to it as Countess Celsie's Home for Wayward Strays), but she was first and foremost an Arilan, so she was here in their midst this week, both to welcome another member of the next generation of Arilans and to do her duty by her family.

Jashana entered the room, carrying a basket full of linen. "I've set the staff to scouring and polishing downstairs, but I figured we could check these linens and select the best ones for the tables in the Great Hall. They've been freshly laundered and just came in off the line, so I'm fairly sure they're free of any stains or candle wax, but it's best if we check them now rather than waiting until the morning of the feast and then discovering the laundress missed some spots."

"Good idea," Javana said, rising to pull one end of a table linen out of the basket for their inspection. She glanced up at her younger sister with a faint smile. "I'm afraid I'm a bit out of practice for this sort of thing, though, so you might want to double-check the cloths in case I miss anything." A shadow filled her eyes. "Walter mainly expected me to sit around my bower looking ornamental."

Jashana nodded, giving her sister a sympathetic smile, though carefully trying not to show any trace of pity. "I'm afraid I'm a bit out of practice as well."

Javana gave a short laugh. "Oh, that's right; you've doubtless got quite a large household to manage such things at your new home in Llyr."

"Oh no, it's not that, exactly." Jashana grinned. "Mihall's Court rarely sets up our Great Hall with tables. Not Gwyneddan style tables, at any rate. We sit on cushions on the floor."

"You eat off the floor?!"

Jashana laughed at her sister's incredulous stare. "Oh, we _do_ have tables, they're just very low ones. It's really much nicer than it sounds." She shared a mental picture of her new husband's Court with Javana. "Hopefully you'll visit me there someday," she offered a little shyly, still unsure of what to say around the sister that life and circumstances had estranged her from for so long.

"Perhaps someday," Javana murmured noncommittally.

They inspected the rest of the cloths in silence until they got to the last one, selecting the best ones for use during the christening feast and returning the others to the basket to be stored for everyday use. "How are you settling in at the Sanctuary?" Jashana asked finally.

Javana smiled. "It was a bit strange at first, but I rather like it now. The house rules are a bit strict, but not onerous; the order and discipline reminds me a bit of my days in Andelon, actually." Javana laughed slightly, waggling a hand. "Without all the tutors, the magical training, that annoying chaperone with the waddle and the wheezy breath...all right, maybe it's not exactly like Andelon..."

Jashana grinned. "Do you think you'll remain there for a while longer, or are you hoping for a brief stay?"

"I don't know yet." Javana's amusement faded. "It's too soon for me to come back here, though; I do know that much. I don't mind visiting Tre-Arilan, but I can't stay."

Jashana nodded in understanding. "I love Seisyll and Sophie, but it's their home now."

"Yes."

The younger sister studied the elder for a long moment, wondering if it was too soon to broach the topic that was on her mind. Javana, after a moment, raised an eyebrow at her.

"What is it?"

Jashana glanced out the window, biting her lip. "Have you considered, once you're feeling like re-entering the world again, going to Rhemuth to the Schola of St. Camber? I've heard they need more teachers. Bishop Duncan asked Sophie to consider volunteering her time as she's able, but she won't be able to make much of a commitment to that until baby Jack is a bit older."

Javana stared out the window. "I've given it a little thought, yes. I may, someday." She bit her lip. "Is it true that Walter's daughter is a student there?"

Jashana paused, wondering who had told her sister about Walter's by-blow child. "Yes," she answered after a long moment. "Her name is Cass. She's eleven years old, or perhaps twelve by now." She bit her lip, wondering what Javana was thinking, for her sister was too tightly shielded, her expression too guarded, for Jashana to get a good read on her emotions. "She's really quite unlike him, though, aside from having his coloring. And being Deryni, of course."

Javana nodded. "That's good," she said. She continued to stare out the window. "I realize her parentage is not her fault. Still, I think I'll remain at the Sanctuary for the time being. I...don't think I could bear to be at the same Schola with Walter's child. The memories of him are still far too fresh."

"I know," Jashana whispered, taking her sister's hand. "Time heals, though. At least it did for me."

Javana stood statue-still in the window a moment longer, then turned, accepting the comfort of her younger sister's embrace.

#

_November 3, 1134_

_Caisleán Shiele, the Isle of Llyr_

Javana Arilan, eyes sparkling and cheeks rosy with health more than a year after her safe deliverance from her late husband's castle at Caerdraig, gave thanks to God for the safe deliverance of her sister through childbirth on All Saint's Day two days before. She sat at Jashana's bedside, cradling the new _Banoidhre_ of Llyr in her arms.

"What do you plan to name her?" Javana asked. She smiled as her sister gave her husband the High Lord a tender glance, no longer bitter over her younger sister's happiness and good fortune, for her own heart—though still quite bruised—was well on its way to mending.

"Eibhlin," Jashana added, stroking the baby's dark hair. "Eibhlin Alix Catriona, for both our mothers and Mihall's sister." She glanced up at her husband with a grin. "We're naming the next one after an Arilan, though. After all that work, I quite insist."

Mihall chuckled, bending to kiss his wife. "You can name the next one anything you like, love, especially since the prospect of a next child means you'll let me in your bed again someday. I had begun to worry when you started pitching the crockery at me."

Jashana laughed. "It was just one tankard, and I was in pain!"

"Ah. And does that also explain those words of wifely affection, 'You touch me one more time, you bastard, and I'm tying a knot in it'?" Mihall's clear green eyes grinned down at his sister-in-law, who exploded in laughter.

"Tell me she didn't really say that!"

"Oh, she did! And just as I was about to block the pains for her, too." He winked at his wife. "Ungrateful wench."

"Well, you didn't tell me _that's_ what you were up to!"

"Yes, I did!"

"You did? Well, I _was_ a little bit occupied at the time..."

Javana smiled to herself as the couple continued with their feigned bickering, gazing down at her newborn niece. "Welcome to the family, Eibhlin," she whispered. "We're not exactly the normal sort, but you'll have no shortage of love."

Love and children. Javana had wanted such things once—might want them again someday, though the thought of sharing her life with a man again was still unthinkable to her, fond of her brothers and her brother-in-law though she was—but for now she was reasonably content. Some days, like today, she was even happy. It would suffice. Perhaps, someday in the unforeseeable future, she would be ready for more, but for now she was taking life one day at a time.

It was not so bad, dealing with life in this way. She was relearning life's joys, and as for its pains, they were much less overwhelming now. Each new step led to another.

The baby awakened, crying for her mother. Javana handed the infant back to Jashana and rose, bending to kiss her sister's brow. "I need to get back. I told Countess Celsie I'd return to the Sanctuary in time to teach the new arrivals some basic stitchery." At Jashana's confused look, she added, "They're street urchins, twelve-year-old twin girls she found begging for food. I'm teaching them how to sew so they can earn their keep as sempstresses." She grinned. "And Celsie is teaching me some of her Deryni cording lore in her spare time. Not that she has much of _that_, lately, between spending time at the Sanctuary, being Derry's Countess, making occasional runs to Chervignon, and raising that imp Seamus and her three daughters."

"Wait..." Mihall, looking puzzled, counted back the years in his head. "Didn't the Earl and Countess Derry marry just a short while back? I thought your Earl of Derry married not too long after my sister did."

"Yes. Derry and Countess Celsie have been married five years."

The High Lord's lips twitched. "And Derry has a son and three daughters already?"

Javana rolled her eyes expressively at her sister. "_And_ they're hoping for a second son eventually."

Mihall grinned down at his wife's warning expression. "_Chuisle,_ no need to give me that look. If I give you four children in five years, I'll tie that knot myself!"

"If you give me four children in five years, heart, I'll tie a second knot around your neck! I may be my mother's daughter, but I don't intend to breed every time you get the itch to toss your braies over the bedpost."

Javana laughed, offered her sister and brother-in-law a brief farewell, and slipped out, returning to the safe-haven she now considered her home.

###


End file.
